The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)
by annawritesfanfiction
Summary: Tamzin Montgomery is definitely NOT happy when she has to take a job as the photographer for Il Volo. She wanted to work for a different company as a landscape photographer, and so she resents the boys, especially Ignazio, who can't seem to leave her alone! But as she begins to see what Il Volo is all about, she realizes it might not be so bad after all.
1. Chapter 1

The Photographer

(Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

***Author's note: Welcome to my fourth fanfiction, about the third boy in Il Volo, the singing trio from Italy. This one is about Ignazio Boschetto, whose name can be difficult to pronounce. It's essentially EEN-YAHT-ZIO. 16-year-old Ignazio himself teaches how to say it in the Youtube video "Learn Italian With Il Volo," posted by Linora Low. watch?v=0syFNL7E-k . I know it's been a long while since I've posted anything, but it's because I've been so busy with this fanfic! Like with my other Il Volo stories, I encourage you to look up the group and the songs mentioned, as it may help the effect of the story. I also want to mention that "Michele" is pronounced like "Mick-ell-ay," and it wasn't just me trying to spell "Michel". Michele Torpedine is the actual manager of Il Volo. You can email me at annawritesfanfiction at gmail dotcom (the site doesn't let you write the address normally.) I hope you enjoy the story! **

–**Anna Babin (annawritesfanfiction)**

On the first of August, I headed to Harrison with an unbearable excitement in my chest. I hurried along the pavement, my red high-tops slapping against the ground. I couldn't help doting on what a beautiful day it was. The sky was a bright blue, with clouds so fluffy they were like cotton candy, and so close I could seemingly pluck them from the sky and put them in my mouth. It was a warm, sunny, and bright Florida morning- a perfect day to receive my long-anticipated assignment.

The day was called Assignment Day by the students of The Harrison Academy of Film and Photography. It was a day regarded with eager ambition, the day when students accepted employment by the largest, most well-known companies throughout the world.

Harrison was the best film and photography school in The States, and everyone with these particular passions longed to get in. Harrison only had about three hundred attending students, and each one had approached the Academy on their own and displayed their unbelievable talent and promise. Harrison trained and bred photographers of all ages, and I was one of the rare children who started attending classes at age eleven. Every day after school I had gone to the Academy and received my strict training. It took all of my time and effort, but had helped me to grow into an amazing photographer. I had recently been attending Harrison along with advertisement classes at a local college.

Though my parents were uncertain about photography as a career, Harrison attendees never went hungry. Students of the academy were in high demand, and any company that was worth anything jumped at the chance to snatch up their own Harrison student.

But I had set my eyes on one company in particular, and today I was certain that the position I longed for, trained for, was mine at last!

I entered the gates of the Academy and went to the waiting room for my turn to receive my assignment. I was the last of today's students to meet with the headmaster, and I sat alone in the room, fidgeting in excitement and impatiently watching the hands on the clock slowly move.

After several minutes of silence, the door to the headmaster's office burst open, and a girl named Eve hurried forth, squealing in excitement.

"Tamzin!" she cried when she saw me, waving about her folder containing her assignment. "I have the most amazing assignment!"

"Congratulations!" I said, jumping up as she scurried up to me. "What did you get?"

"I'm going to be a photographer for the great, the powerful-"

"Eve!"

"I'm a photographer for National Geographic!"

I froze.

"National Geographic?"

"Uh-huh! Isn't it great!? I've got to go and tell my parents!"

She bounced up and down in excitement and rushed around me.

I stood frozen and watched her leaving.

"Tamzin?" came the call from behind me, but I stood frozen in the waiting room, watching Eve bounce away.

"Tamzin, come in."

I whirled around and strode briskly into the office and went right up to the desk.

"Tell me it isn't so, Mr. Masters! Tell me the girl's deluded!" I cried, pointing behind me at the door to the waiting room.

Mr. Masters' smile faded.

"I'm sorry, Tamzin. I'm afraid it is."

I stared at him for a few moments, speechless and despondent.

Then I sunk down into the chair facing the desk, despair rising in my chest. I buried my head in my hands as I felt all my excitement depleting, and for a moment the office was silent as I felt Mr. Masters watching me curled up in the chair, waiting as he usually did for me to collect myself. My sorrow quickly turned to fury, and I leapt up and slammed my fist on the desk.

"And they wanted Eve above me!?"

"Tamzin, shut the door! She might still be able to hear you!"

I turned and kicked the door shut with a bang, making Mr. Masters roll his eyes at my usual defiance.

"Why Eve!?"

"They liked her unique camera angles."

"Unique!? That girl couldn't get a good angle if she measured it with a protractor!"

Mr. Masters laughed merrily, and then quieted when he saw my blazing eyes.

"Tamzin, sit down."

"They wanted her over me!?"

His jolly nature evaporated, and he pointed at the chair.

"Tamzin Lucille Montgomery! Have a seat!"

I sank into the chair, glaring defiantly.

"They weren't looking for a landscape photographer today. If they were, I'm sure they would have picked you. They're going to be conducting several cultural studies, and Eve's knowledge of the subjects and her grasp of several different languages make her a perfect recipient of the job."

I looked sadly into his face, and he smiled in an attempt to cheer me up. Instead, I buried my face in my hands again.

"Oh, what am I going to do, Mr. Masters!?" I moaned from within my hands, "I denied last year's offers because I knew they were coming this year and I wanted to keep training for them! I was sure I'd get the job! Now what will I do!? I have loans to pay back from my advertisement courses at the college! And my rent's due on my apartment!"

"Tamzin," he said, and I raised my head from my hands. He smiled brightly at me. "You have an offer."

"I do!?" I leapt up in excitement. "Well!? What is it!? Why didn't you tell me this before!?"

He laughed joyously and pointed at the chair, and I sat and waited, fidgeting, while he reached back into a filing cabinet and pulled out a thick folder. He placed it on the desk and then slid it over to me.

"I think you're going to like this one, Tamzin."

I grabbed the folder and flipped it open, looking in bewilderment at a picture of three Italian-looking boys about my age.

"Do you know who these guys are?" Mr. Masters asked eagerly.

"No," I answered, scrutinizing the three faces. "But I think I've seen them on an ad for The Tonight Show before."

"That's very possible," he said. "They're a trio of operatic pop singers."

I slowly looked up, narrowing my eyes.

"They're… _singers_!?"

"Yes, and excellent ones at that. They're called "Il Volo.""

"They're called_ what_?"

"Il Volo. It means "The Flight" in Italian."

He reached across the desk and pointed at the picture at the boy in the middle, a boy with sensual eyes and a soft smile, and soft-looking dark hair.

"That's Gianluca Ginoble."

He moved his finger to a sweet-looking boy with red glasses and an excited smile.

"That's Piero Barone."

He moved his finger to the third boy, a broad-shouldered, happy-looking boy with eyes that shone good-naturedly. His hair was long and unruly, and he was handsome despite the funny beard he was trying to grow.

"That's Ignazio Boschetto."

"I'm never going to be able to pronounce those names," I said, and Mr. Masters laughed.

"Oh, you'll learn."

"So what do they want from me?"

"Well…their current photographer is leaving, and they need a new one."

"But…I've hardly done any portrait work!"

"I know, but they just adored the work you have done. The managers specifically want you, and they instructed me not to let you get away."

"I don't think-" I began doubtfully.

"I think you'll like this job, Tamzin. They're about to go on tour, and you'll get to travel, like you wanted to do with National Geographic! And I'm sure you and the boys will get along very well."

I looked scornfully at their picture. Harrison students received occasional offers from celebrities, but few actually accepted them. Several who had reported disappointing stories of bratty pop-stars and condescending bosses. I doubted these boys would be different.

"I'm more of a landscape person," I said, folding my arms defiantly. Mr. Masters sighed.

"Look, Tamzin," he said, reaching forward and producing a contract from the folder. "You said yourself that you have bills to pay, and if that's true I don't think you can go another year without accepting any offers. Look at what they're willing to pay you."

He directed my attention to the page, and I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

"That much, huh?"

"Yes. It's pretty generous, especially since they're covering all your housing arrangements besides that. They want _you_, Tamzin."

I sat back in the chair and chewed my nails thoughtfully, still not keen on the offer.

"This contract's for exactly a year," Mr. Masters interjected. "If National Geographic does come back next year, you'll be back in time for another shot at their company."

I sighed and looked somberly at the boys smiling at me from the picture.

Mr. Masters reached into the pocket of the folder and produced a CD, which he handed to me.

"Listen to them, review the contract, and think about it," he instructed. "One of the boys' managers will be here in Florida next week to talk with you about the job, and to get this contract signed. Then you'll fly to Los Angeles for two weeks to meet the boys and be trained before they start their tour. I think you should do it."

I nodded sadly.

"I guess you're right," I said grudgingly and sorrowfully, slowly closing the folder and taking it into my lap. "I guess I'll have to take it."

Mr. Masters nodded approvingly.

"You'll meet with the manager in a week, okay?"

I nodded glumly and stood up.

"Cheer up, Tamzin," he said. "I doubt you'll regret this job."

"Thanks, Mr. Masters," I said sullenly, and dismissed myself from his office, taking the folder with me.

As I left the Academy, I looked up at the mockingly cheerful blue sky and glared at it. I trudged back to my apartment, stomped up the outside steps, and went to my couch, sitting down remorsefully and looking at the folder in my hands. It was not the offer I pictured having at this time. Anger swelled within my chest and I stood suddenly and threw it down, angry tears in my eyes.

Pop singers!? I was going to be a photographer for pop singers!? I bent down and snatched up the CD, glaring at the handsome, smiling faces of the boys. In a fury, I ran to my apartment window and yanked it up, swiftly drawing my arm back and flinging the CD Frisbee-style out the window. I watched as it crashed to its doom on the cement below and then was run over by a honking car.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Exactly one week later, I met Il Volo's manager and their current photographer at a fancy restaurant to discuss the job offer and the contract. The photographer was a beautiful woman of about thirty who they called Valerie. She told me eagerly all about her job, and she did her best to convince me that I would have fun traveling with Il Volo. I asked suspiciously why she was leaving, and she said that she had accepted a job with a company that was stationary.

"All this activity is tiring!" she laughed, "But a young girl like yourself will easily be able to handle it!"

The manager's name was Michele Torpedine, and he was a jolly Italian man of about sixty with curly white and gray hair and a beard and mustache. He had a kind smile and gentle eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. He reminded me vaguely of Mr. Masters, and I quickly began to feel comfortable with him. Throughout our dinner together, I felt as though he had come simply to get to know me rather than to discuss business. Until, that is, he slid a copy of the contract across the table to me.

"So, Tamzin," he said, and I felt my insides shrink at the sight of the contract, "Let's negotiate. What do you think of the offer?"

The pay and the benefits of the job were generous, and I knew that I couldn't go another year without accepting an offer. I reached out my hand, and Michele smiled and took a pen from his sleek black jacket.

I gripped it tightly, reminding myself that I had to sign, and I looked at Michele's eager face for comfort that it wouldn't be so bad. I looked down and quickly scribbled my name on the contract, then dropped the pen and slid it across the table, feeling as though I had just signed away my dreams.

Another week later I said my goodbyes to my parents, Harrison, and my Florida home and boarded a plane to Los Angeles, where I'd live for two weeks as Valerie mentored me on my new lifestyle before she left Il Volo's team.

I was picked up by Michele when I arrived, and as he drove me to the condo I'd be sharing with Valerie I admired the skyscrapers and palm trees surrounding me, possible landscape photos dancing through my mind. When we reached the condos, I met Barbara Vitali, Il Volo's road manager, and she seemed sweet and excited to meet me. Then Valerie took me to the condo we'd be sharing and helped me unpack my suitcase, but I insisted that I be the only one to handle my photography equipment. As a photographer herself, she understood. She gave me some time to recover from the powerful jetlag I went through before she started coaching me, and then our work began. She explained more about what it was like to be Il Volo's photographer, and she showed me her work and the different angles she had played with. She told me stories about the boys, and I listened politely, though I was unamused. I didn't particularly want to know more about the boys than was necessary.

I learned that Gianluca was the serious part of the group, and he tended to be somewhat reserved until he ascended the stage or met with fans.

Piero was the self-proclaimed crazy one, and he was very smart and silly. He liked attention, and loved to play around onstage with Ignazio.

Ignazio was the funny one, who was always trying to make people laugh. In addition to that, he was supposedly especially sweet and kind, and was the most outgoing when it came to public appearances.

I committed this information to memory, but I was admittedly suspicious about whether Valerie was glorifying them for me or if she meant what she said about them.

I asked when I would meet them, and she told me that they were currently in Italy, spending time with their families before their touring started. She said that I'd meet them when they flew back to Los Angeles at the end of the week. They'd be in the city with us for another week before we all left to begin the touring, with me as Valerie's substitute.

I politely agreed that I was excited to meet them after the week was up, but frankly, I could wait. I could wait much longer than Michele, Barbara, and Valerie realized.

The day after the boys arrived, before I had seen them, I sat in the condo alone, excitedly scrolling through web pages about Los Angeles on my laptop. I didn't plan to leave without getting some photos of the gorgeous landscapes around me. I swooned over the skyscrapers, the palm trees, the mountains, and the bustling activity throughout the huge city. As I sat researching the best spots for landscape photography, there was a knock on the door.

"Valerie?" I called, then realized that she wouldn't have knocked since she had a key. I set the laptop aside and got up to see who was there. When I opened the door, I looked in surprise at the tall, handsome Italian boy standing on the doorstep. His hair was long and dark, and his eyes shone good-naturedly as he smiled beautifully at me. He had a short beard and mustache, and his eyebrows were thick and dark. He was broad shouldered and cheerful looking, and he laughed softly at my surprised expression, revealing his dimples.

"Good morning!" he said cheerfully in a handsome Italian accent, and I quickly adopted a solemn expression and leaned boredly against the doorframe, scrutinizing this boy I'd be following across the world.

"Oh," I said calmly, "Hi."

"You must be Tamzin," he said, unaffected by my sudden mood change.

I nodded.

"That's me. Your photographer for the next year."

"I'm glad to meet you," he said, "I'm Ignazio."

He stepped toward me and reached out to hug me, which I grudgingly allowed, and I was startled when he kissed my cheek.

"So, Tamzin," he said when he stepped back, "Michele has planned for the four of us- That's you and me, Gianluca and Piero- to go out together for dinner for some "bonding time." He's even picked the restaurant and everything, and it sounds fantastic!"

"Sure, I'll go," I said calmly, not wanting to reject Michele's offer.

Ignazio smiled.

"I don't think you have much of a choice," he said, "Michele says it's mandatory. It'll be fun, though, don't you think?"

He smiled expectantly at me, and I didn't respond, raising an eyebrow instead.

"The other boys and I will be here to get you at seven. Sorry they're not here now, but apparently I'm the appointed pageboy."

He leaned toward me and grinned slyly, putting his hand up as if he was telling me a secret. "Or maybe they're just too lazy to leave the condo."

I couldn't resist smiling softly, and when Ignazio seemed pleased I quickly regained my composure.

"Wear something nice, it's a fancy place," he said as he stepped off the welcome mat and turned slightly to leave. "I'll see you toni-"

I stepped back and closed the door. I turned and leaned against it, looking over at the glorious landscape samples on my laptop, and then toward the grayscale Il Volo portrait samples on the counter and sighed. Il Volo had arrived, and they took the place of the career I had dreamed about since I was little. The boys were here, and I couldn't hide.

In the evening I dressed in a simple pleated red dress, the only dress I had taken with me, but I refused to substitute my red high-tops for any other shoes. My shoulder-length blonde hair was messy from the hike I had gone on in search of good photo spots, and I pulled it back into a ponytail and refused to take any makeup-related action to show off my blue eyes. I was ready to leave a half-hour early, and I sat down to do some more research on Los Angeles, anticipating that the three boys would be late. To my surprise, they came ten minutes early.

Hmm…So the boys were punctual. That would be good when the touring started. I went to the door and opened it, and the three boys on the doorstep smiled at me.

They all wore classy black suits and simple blue ties, except for the one with glasses, who had picked out a red bow-tie. Ignazio stood in the middle, and he gave me a playful bow.

"Good evening, Madame," he said in a deep voice, stepping forward to hug me and kiss my cheek again. I raised an eyebrow at him when he stepped away and turned away from him to look over the other two boys.

Gianluca was as handsome in real life as he was in photos, with his contemplative expression, serious dark eyes, and silky hair. His mouth turned up at the corner under my gaze, and he stepped past Ignazio to introduce himself as he hugged me and kissed my cheek, which again surprised me. Maybe it was common in Italy or something. I turned to observe Piero.

He was sweet-looking, with playful brown eyes framed by the bright red glasses. He smiled wide at me, and stepped forward to hug and kiss me like the others had and to introduce himself. Yep, definitely must be Italian.

"I'm Tamzin Montgomery," I said simply, "I'm your photographer."

"Shall we go, Tamzin?" Ignazio asked, dramatically offering me his arm and waiting for me to take it. I looked curiously at it, and then up at Ignazio.

"Yes. Let's go," I said, stepping around him and walking in front of the three to the waiting taxi.

The restaurant was beautiful, with tall ceilings and brilliant red tablecloths, and lovely flickering candles and violin music that made me catch my breath when I walked in.

"Wow! Michele has outdone himself!" Piero said, shaking his head at me and smiling sweetly.

We went to our table and took our seats, and I kept quiet as I observed the friendly and playful interactions of the boys.

Valerie's opinions seemed correct, as Piero seemed silly and mischievous, Ignazio teased the other two boys and told funny stories, and Gianluca was reserved except when the other boys turned their attention on him. Each of them took turns trying to pull me into the conversation, but I preferred to sit back and scrutinize them. They loved to tease each other, and they all were playful and good-natured. They acted very gentle with me, and weren't deterred from speaking to me when I resisted conversion and observed each one of them. Still, I longed to be out and about in Los Angeles, spending the evening snapping photos instead of dining with three pop stars. I wondered if their cheerful disposition would fall away after I saw more of them, and was reminded of my Harrison colleagues who told stories of singers that were kind at first and demanding later on. I wondered which one would crack first and gazed suspiciously at them, overlooking their silly jokes and stories. When I turned my gaze specifically on Ignazio, he gave me a bright smile back and turned slightly toward me.

"So, Tamzin," he said, leaning toward me and studying my face, "Tell us about your career. How did you become such a good photographer?"

"I started young," I said simply, wondering if he actually liked my photos or if he was making conversation. He seemed pretty genuine, but I was determined not to be fooled, as many celebrities are masters of deceit.

"Yes, but many photographers start young," Piero said, turning my attention away from Ignazio's sweet smile, "And they don't get as good as you."

I sat up straighter and lifted my chin, hoping to display that I took photography seriously and that I expected not to be overlooked.

"I started attending The Harrison Academy of Film and Photography when I was only eleven. I was a rare case. Most people can't get in at all, especially since they only train three hundred students a year."

"Wow," Ignazio encouraged, and the others nodded agreeably.

"Michele showed us your portrait work when he was searching for a new photographer," Gianluca said, "You are an artist! And at such a young age, too!"

I scowled at him.

"I'm the same age as you!" I snapped, determined not to let him condescend to me. Gianluca looked immediately apologetic, and Ignazio, apparently always the joker, attempted to diffuse the situation.

"Yes, but we're _extraordinary _young men," he said, leaning back with his hands behind his head and smiling at me in mock smugness.

Piero and Gianluca laughed, and Piero reached over and shoved him lightly. Ignazio reached out to tousle Piero's dark hair, causing him to protest and lean swiftly away as he laughed.

I didn't laugh, and stared seriously at the horseplaying boys until they quieted and the three of them were watching me.

"So it may _seem_," I said boredly, delicately picking up my wine glass filled with root beer and taking a sip as they looked at me with stunned surprise, and then at each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I quickly discovered that Gianluca, Piero, and Ignazio were very active, and they were constantly going biking, swimming, hiking, and leaving for trips to the beach. They always invited me along, but I declined every time and spent much of the last week in Los Angeles hiding from them in the condo. I spent most of the time I wasn't learning from Valerie researching the best photo spots, and I escaped multiple times to go for blissful romps throughout the city with my camera. I traveled by taxi around the enormous landscape, then explored on foot climbing mountains and hills and trees to get the best shots, and I slipped out at five in the morning and in the evening to get brilliant sunrise and sunset pictures. These were the times I had the most fun during the week, fulfilling my photographic desires and ambitions as I admired the successfully captured scenes. I became reunited with my familiar excursions as I dashed around in an exhilarated rush hunting for the best views.

Though I should have been exited for the start of the Il Volo tour, I was instead filled with a sense of dread. Coming back from my frenzied explorations of Los Angeles to the condo filled with Valerie's photos of Il Volo dimmed my delight and reminded me that I was now expected to be a portrait artist instead of one thriving on landscapes.

Finally, the day we were to leave arrived. We all packed up our suitcases and I packed my camera equipment, and the boys, Michele, Barbara, and I loaded our things into cabs. It was early in the morning, before the sun had yet risen, and I said a fond good-bye to Valerie in the morning darkness and issued a silent one to Los Angeles.

I was hoping to sit next to Michele or Barbara on the plane, but was disappointed when Ignazio sat beside me instead, with Piero beside him. Piero immediately put in his headphones and went to sleep, but Ignazio didn't follow suit.

"Hi, Tamzin," he said, turning to me and smiling sweetly after we had taken to the air.

I glanced up from my National Geographic magazine and then looked back down.

"Aren't you going to tell me hello?" he teased, his eyes shining playfully.

I looked up and raised an eyebrow, then turned my attention back to the magazine.

"Hi _Ignazio_," I said, emphasizing a "g" sound and mispronouncing it on purpose. He smiled.

"It's _Ignazio_. No "g" sound."

"Yeah, okay," I said, not looking up. I reached into my bag and pulled out the tour schedule Michele had given me. We were starting with Latin America, which I had never been to and was ecstatic to view the landscapes. The first place we were headed to was Mexico- to Guadalajara, Puebla, and then Mexico City. After that we would head to a few places in Venezuela, and then we would rapidly change countries. We would go to Panama, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Honduras, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Chile, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, someplace called Curitiba, and then Porto Alegre and Sao Paolo. The schedule was dizzying, and all of these places were to be visited before the end of October.

I returned the schedule to my bag and continued studying the magazine, observing the gorgeous landscapes contained in the pages. I observed the vast ranges of brilliant color in the skies and throughout the land, and admired the features of the earth.

As I turned the pages, I stared longingly at them as I remembered that I was supposed to be a portrait photographer now. Though I could no longer dedicate all of my time to landscapes, I was determined to slip away from the boys and capture scenes of the land at every place we stopped. I would not let them take away my dream.

"Tamzin?" Ignazio asked, and I quickly looked up, breaking from my reverie. I was surprised to find him regarding me with a gentle look of concern.

"What?"

"You look a little sad. Are you alright?"

I stared at him, momentarily speechless and caught off guard by his sensitivity.

"I-I'm fine," I said, and quickly looked away.

"What are you reading?" he asked, and I flipped the magazine shut so he could see the cover.

"Oh, National Geographic. Are you a social studies kind of girl, then?"

"No."

He waited for me to continue, but I didn't.

"Are you excited to go to Guadalajara?"

"Sure."

In fact, I was ecstatic, but not for the reasons he might have thought. I was excited to get my camera and go traveling around to get some great photos. I couldn't wait to set my eyes on a Mexican sunrise and sunset, and observe and capture a place outside the U.S.

"Ever been before?"

"Nope."

"It's a great place. We've been a few times before to do concerts."

I didn't respond, and he was quiet for a moment, watching me thumb through the pages of the magazine.

"So if you don't like social studies, then why do you like National Geographic?"

My eyes flicked up to his cheerful face, and I glowered at him, confusing him.

"What's wrong?"

_What's wrong? What's wrong is that I don't want to discuss my dream job with one of the people pulling me away from it! Can't I hold onto my dreams, or is that too much to ask!?_

"Did I say something wrong?"

"What are you trying to do?" I asked condescendingly, and he watched me quietly for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just trying to be friendly with you, Tamzin." He smiled suddenly and leaned in close to me. "You know, get on your good side." When I showed no hint of a response, he shrugged and asked curiously, raising an eyebrow playfully, "What are you trying to do?"

Why couldn't I have sat beside Piero or Gianluca, who were asleep!?

"I'm trying to read," I said haughtily, quieting him for a long while.

When I finished looking at the magazine, I stared out the window at the clouds, my mood improving as I daydreamed about Harrison and the pictures I could take in Mexico.

Ignazio sat quietly playing on his phone, and he eventually pulled out headphones and plugged them in. I turned my gaze away from the window to watch him, and he smiled brightly at me and offered me an earbud.

"Do you want to listen with me?"

"What are you listening to?" I asked curiously.

"Sinatra."

I stared at him in stunned silence, and he laughed.

"What?"

"I just…didn't think that a pop star would listen to Sinatra."

He laughed again.

"The boys and I listen to all types of music. And we're not pop singers, we're op-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, dismissing him as I returned to staring out the window.

I could feel him watching me, and I avoided his reflection in the window.

"Tamzin," he said gently, and I turned my head slightly and peered at him. "Have you ever listened to an Il Volo CD?"

I shook my head.

"Funny," he said thoughtfully, "I thought Michele would have sent you one with the job offer."

"He did. I…lost it," I said, but I could feel myself blushing with embarrassment as I spoke. Ignazio studied my flushed face, and I quickly turned from his gaze and tried to regain my composure.

I was surprised to feel his hand rest gently on my arm, and I looked at it and then at him, into his gentle eyes.

"I'll get you one," he said, and I quietly watched him, thinking.

"I probably won't listen to it," I warned, shrugging off his hand.

He smiled.

"I'll get one for you anyway. You should have it, now that you're part of the Il Volo team."

I looked into his earnest face and suddenly felt very small.

"But... I'm just the photographer."

He shook his head.

"Not "just." You're part of the team."

I furrowed my brow in thought and searched his face for false candor, finding none. He held out an earbud to me, and I shook my head and looked away, but looked back a minute later when he had leaned his head back against the plane seat and closed his eyes for a nap.

I watched him quietly, observing with a new curiosity his dark silky hair, the dark brows, the sweet relaxed expression, and the faint smile on his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When we landed in Mexico, we went to a small but nice hotel where we got settled. I unpacked some things from my suitcase and went to speak with Michele, who reminded me that the boys had a private TV interview in the evening, and that I had to be present to take photos.

"Meet us in front of the hotel at six," he instructed me, and then dismissed me. I hurried back to my room and excitedly grabbed my camera and left the hotel. I jogged past the three boys in the lobby and then out the door, running to immerse myself in Guadalajara.

I roamed about the Mexican wonderland, scrambling into strange places and heights to get good pictures. I ignored the heat as I moved quickly and feverishly throughout the land, laughing in exhilaration with my heavy camera slung around my neck.

I planned to be back at the hotel before four to take a shower and get ready to go out. But when four arrived, I pushed the thought of going back out of my head as I scrambled into a tree and positioned the camera.

I decided not to go back until four-thirty, and decided that no matter where I was, I would pry myself away from the landscape and return to the hotel.

But at four-thirty I refused to go back, and at five I looked at my watch and gasped in surprise as I began my long sprint back to the hotel room. By the time I got to the hotel, it was fifteen minutes to six, and I ducked through the lobby where Michele was already waiting as I dashed to my room.

I startled Gianluca as I sprinted by him in the hallway, and he turned and called, "Tamzin, are you okay!?"

I turned breathlessly and gave him a quick nod before turning and scurrying into my hotel room.

I ran to the mirror and raised my eyebrows at my appearance as I panted to regain my breath. I looked frightful, with my face red, my blonde hair darkened with sweat, and my shirt and shorts dirty and wrinkled.

I was a pretty punctual person, and I was usually early for things. It was strange that I was in such a rush, but surprisingly, I felt rather remorseless. So what if the boys had to wait a few extra minutes? It was a small price for them to pay for cutting my time capturing Guadalajara short.

I turned and hurried to the sink, where I grabbed a cloth and ran it under the cold water, wiping at my flushed face and then flinging it aside as I leaned forward to gulp the water straight from the faucet.

Then I stepped back and looked around, wondering where to start to make myself look presentable in only a few minutes. There was no time for a shower, and I peeled off my clothes and settled for wiping the sweat off of myself with the cloth. I relatively doused myself in body spray, reapplied deodorant, and grabbed a new shirt and dress pants from my suitcase. I dressed hurriedly, hopping to the mirror as I yanked on the pants, where I pulled my dirty hair back into a quick ponytail. I grabbed my camera and hurried to the lobby, where the boys, Barbara, and Michele were waiting for me, the boys all looking dashing in tuxedos.

I paused for a moment and took a deep breath before I strolled coolly over to them.

"Hey," I said, hanging the camera around my neck as I approached.

"Tamzin, finally!" Michele said, "We've got to get going. Come on, guys."

The boys all smiled at me, and I shied away when Ignazio moved to hug me. He smiled gently and allowed me to avoid the hugging, and the six of us walked outside to the cars Michele had rented.

"You look a little flustered," Ignazio said. "Where did you go?"

"Out," I said as I passed him to claim shotgun, and refused to tell him when he asked again.

I took a few pictures of the boys before the interview started, without adding any special artistic flair to them. I didn't even tell them how to pose, as was custom in portrait photography. I found that it didn't really matter to me how they looked, just so I made sure I got some photos. I made sure to get a few during the interview, but I didn't even move around to get different angles, allowing all of the pictures to look somewhat homogeneous. For the most part I just sat boredly next to Michele, looking longingly out the window. The interview was uninteresting, especially since it was in Spanish, which I did not understand.

I didn't review the pictures until Michele asked to see them when we returned to the hotel. Everyone gathered around me as I showed them the shots.

As I flicked through them, Barbara nodded in approval and Michele patted me on the cheek.

"Nice work, Tamzin. They're good."

"Yeah," I said glumly, "They're good."

Michele gave me the responsibility of putting up some of the shots on Facebook, and then I headed back to my hotel room.

I felt a disappointed ache within my chest, and I tried in vain to dismiss it. As I reviewed the photos and put them online, I felt anxious to be putting these simple images out for public viewing.

There was nothing wrong with them, and they _were_ good photos. The problem was that they weren't great. To me, they felt plain and mediocre. Whenever I took landscapes, I poured my whole heart and all my energy into getting the shots, but with these…well…I couldn't remember the last time I had put so little effort into photography.

I set the camera aside and went to the bathroom for an overdue bath. As I washed, I tried to remind myself that the problem was only that I was a landscape photographer, and the reason the photos were just good was because I wasn't meant to be a portrait photographer. I didn't have to spend myself on the photos like I did on my landscapes as long as Michele, Barbara and the boys were happy, which they were.

Still, I avoided my sheepish blue eyes in the mirror as I climbed out from the tub and dressed in an oversized T-shirt and shorts to sleep in. All the TV channels were in Spanish, and I settled for a Spanish animated movie, hoping to take my mind off of Il Volo for the night as I reviewed my landscapes from earlier. Just as my mind had relaxed and I was feeling sleepy, there was a loud knock on the door.

I groaned softly and didn't move.

"What!?" I called.

"Tamzin, open the door."

"Why?"

"I have something for you."

I suspiciously looked over at the door and then forced myself off the couch and went over to it. I opened the door and leaned agitatedly against the doorframe, raising my eyebrows expectantly. Ignazio smiled brightly at me, wearing a soft-looking T-shirt and jeans and holding his hands behind his back.

"What? It's late."

"I know, I'm sorry. But I wanted to give you these."

He held out his hand, holding a stack of CDs with the words _Il Volo_ printed on all of them.

My eyes flicked up to his face in surprise, and then back down at the CDs as I stood up straight and stopped leaning against the doorframe.

"You actually brought them," I said, and he smiled.

"Of course! You should have them."

"I…I might not listen to them."

He gave me a sly half-smile, as if he knew something I didn't, and I looked at the CDs and reached out gingerly to take them.

I looked quietly at the different covers, and then up at Ignazio, who was waiting for me to speak.

"Um…thanks," I said, and he nodded and then stepped toward me to hug me. I didn't move and let him hug me and kiss my cheek.

"No problem, Tamzin. Goodnight."

He stepped back and smiled at me, and I reached out and quietly shut the door. I stood in front of it, looking down at the CDs in my hand. Then I shook my head and returned to the couch, tossing them onto a chair as I passed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Our second day in Guadalajara was dedicated to publicity, and the boys had a talk show interview, a magazine interview, and a CD signing at a local store. I was expected to go with them the whole day to take pictures, which I was not too excited to do. I was eager to go out and get pictures of the Guadalajara sunrise, though, so I set my alarm for five to have enough time to go out and get the shots I wanted.

When I woke and remembered the long day ahead, I felt grouchy and tired, but I cheered up when I remembered I was getting up to take pictures. The hotel was silent, and I jumped out of the bed and hurried to get dressed.

I ran out into the darkness of the early morning, with my red high-tops pounding against the cement and my camera bouncing against me, my breath loud and quick as I navigated through the darkness to the good photo spots I had found. I was the only one outside, and the land was all mine for a while.

I watched as the dark gray sky slowly changed to a dark blue that faded to a lighter and lighter blue, until the sun peeked into the horizon and swirled it with brilliant pinks and oranges. The silhouettes of the trees and buildings were dark outlines that gradually received their color from the brightening morning light.

I moved from one spot to another, getting different angles and scenes for the pictures. I would stop at one place and take a few pictures, then race excitedly against the light to the next location in order to fit in as many photos as I could before the sun was completely risen.

At last I decided I was finished taking my pictures, and I sat breathlessly on the side of a downtown fountain and watched the activity around me slowly start up, thinking about what a great thing it was to travel. And this was only the first stop on the Il Volo tour! Thinking of all the places we were going to visit made me dizzy with happiness, and I jumped up from the fountain and began to stroll in the direction of the hotel.

When I got close and I was sure of my path, I picked up the camera and began to review my photos, excited approval bubbling inside me. Each one marked not only the beauty of Guadalajara, but reminded me of the beauty of my early morning endeavor, the frenzied, joyful rush to capture the world around me on film.

I was giddy with excitement and beaming with delight as I flicked through the pictures, and I laughed joyously at the success of the mission evident in the images. The sound of my laughter broke through the sleepiness of the early morning and made me laugh again as I hurried happily toward the hotel, alight with familiar passion and cheer.

Our hotel rooms were on the first floor of the hotel, and each had a back door and a nice little porch. I went through the hotel's fence and approached the porch, still intent on my photos. I laughed again, and beamed at my beloved camera.

"Hi, Tamzin!" came a voice, and I froze in my tracks and looked up.

Ignazio was sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee in his hand, wearing the same T-shirt from the night before when he had brought me the CDs, with tousled hair and bright eyes. He was looking at me with cheerful amusement, and I suddenly felt silly, laughing joyously and thinking that no one was listening. I felt small under his gaze, and I wondered if he thought I seemed foolish for being so giddy.

I felt obliged to answer him in my flustered state, so I let go of my camera and let it hang around my neck, pulling myself away from the photos and asking as casually as I could, "Uh…what's up?"

He smiled and set the coffee cup down beside him, clasping his hands over his knees and smiling at me.

"Unfortunately, I am."

I smiled slightly and then straightened, regaining my composure.

"It's not _so_ early."

He checked his watch.

"Seven's pretty early. When did you get up?"

"Five."

"Five!? Why?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but then stopped and decided to keep my photography endeavors a secret. My landscape pictures were _mine_, and I didn't intend to share them with the person who had made me his personal photographer.

I looked condescendingly down at him and shook my head.

"I hadn't heard you laugh yet," he said thoughtfully, and then smiled, "Tell me, what are you so happy about? Where'd you go?"

I clutched my camera so tightly to my chest that it hurt, holding onto it as if he might try to take my pictures from me.

"I went out. It's none of your business."

His smile dimmed.

"Oh. I don't mean to pry, Tamzin. I'm just curious. Go wherever you want."

I studied his face, and he seemed sincere.

He took a sip of his coffee and I stood frozen, watching him silently with the lingering surprise of his first greeting within me, unsure of what I wanted to do next.

He set down the cup and patted the place on the porch beside him, motioning for me to sit with him. I immediately made up my mind to go inside, and I moved toward the steps.

"Are you excited about today?" he asked, and immediately my excitement from my Guadalajara romp vanished. Today was a day that I would have to spend taking pictures of the boys wherever they went, instead of outside absorbed in landscape photography. I looked down at my camera and was filled with a jealous anguish, internally crying, _I should be with National Geographic now, not on tour with three pop singers!_

I narrowed my eyes at him and then stomped up the steps and into my hotel room, slamming the door in frustration as I went.

I took a shower as I reflected, or rather, fumed, on how I came to arrive in Guadalajara. I thought of all my years waiting for the day National Geographic would show up and select me from the Academy. I thought sadly about the fateful day I had to accept this job, and I thought of all the days ahead that I'd have to spend working for someone other than National Geographic. I gloomily tried to brace myself for the long day of portrait photography ahead as I grudgingly got ready to go.

I traveled somberly along with the boys and Michele to the interviews, where I stayed quiet and out of everyone's way. I mostly just sat silently and brooded over my new job and the inconvenience of having to come along to interviews. I took a few pictures here and there, but didn't exert myself much as I listened boredly to the rapid-fire Spanish of the interviewer. I picked at the laces on my red high-tops and refused to pay attention out of gloomy defiance.

After the interview, we went to a nice restaurant where Michele asked me to show him the pictures I had taken while we waited for our food. The last thing I wanted to do was show him the photos, but I did anyway, my heart sinking in my chest as I reviewed them. Michele liked them, and then Ignazio, who was sitting on the other side of me, asked to see them also.

I resisted the urge to glare at him as I turned and held the camera toward him, scrolling through the photos yet again and praying that Gianluca and Piero wouldn't ask to see them.

As I looked sullenly at the good-but-not-great photos I had taken, I reassured myself that as long as Michele and the boys were happy, the photos didn't need any more work.

Sure enough, Ignazio seemed pleased as I flicked through the images, but after a minute I felt him watching me instead of the camera screen,

I looked up into his eyes and lowered the camera.

"What?" I asked sharply, but softly enough that I wouldn't draw the attention of the others.

"You just…look a little sad. Is everything okay?"

I looked bewilderedly at him for a moment, and then pulled my camera away and snapped, "I'm _fine_!"

"Okay," he said gently, "I'm just making sure."

"What does it matter, anyway?" I asked crossly. "I'm just the photographer. _You're_ the pop-singer."

He smiled.

"You're part of the team, Tamzin. And I guess you didn't listen to the CDs, since you're still calling me a pop-singer."

"I will listen to the CDs when I feel like it!" I snapped, and he held up his hands in a playful surrender, unfazed by my harshness.

"I know, I know, whenever you want."

Piero reached out and got his attention then, and Ignazio turned away from me. I scrutinized him as he talked with Piero, watching his sincere dark eyes and playful candor. I looked to Piero, who was looking very cute as he laughed with Ignazio, and then I looked across the table at Gianluca, who was talking with Barbara. He looked over at me and gave me a handsome half-smile, and I quickly averted my eyes and looked down at the camera in my hands, then back at Ignazio.

The boys' CD signing took place in a local book store, where we entered secretly through the back and went to the table set up for them. The boys talked with the store owner while I slipped away to survey the crowd outside. There were dozens of ecstatic teenage girls jumping around and straining against the ropes that held them back. I watched for a moment, and then stepped outside to get a picture of the crowd. Their excited screams pierced my ears, and I winced and held up the camera to snap a quick picture so I could go back inside.

The boys took their place at the table set up for them, and the crowd was let in. I was already feeling irritable and gloomy, and being jostled by a wild crowd of screaming Spanish-speaking teenagers didn't help my mood. I fought against the crowd to get pictures of the boys, and grew increasingly more frustrated as girls got in my way.

I fought my way out of the group and stood outside the busy flow of the fans. I crossed my arms and waited for the signing to be over, wishing to be back at the hotel room, or better yet, outside taking landscape photos.

"Hey!" a girl said in English, looking eagerly at her friend and pointing at me. "She was on the Il Volo Facebook page! She's Il Volo's new photographer."

Il Volo's new photographer. Was that my new identity!? Tamzin, the photographer of Il Volo? Not Tamzin, landscape photographer for National Geographic.

I gripped my camera in frustration as someone called my name. I looked toward the signing table, where Ignazio was leaning back in his chair and motioning for me to go to him. "If you're done with the pictures, you can come take refuge behind the table!"

Piero and Gianluca glanced away from the overzealous crowd and laughed, and Ignazio held out a hand for me to go to them.

I glared at him in exasperation and turned away, disappearing into the rows of bookshelves to escape both the crowd and the boys.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The quiet of the hotel room was welcoming after the long day, and I flopped sleepily onto the couch. I ran my hands over my face and sighed, hoping that the subsequent days would not be as trying as the present day had proved to be.

I took my camera from around my neck and leaned back as I turned it on to review the photos. I sat still for a few moments on the couch, in a sort of glum trance as I looked over the pictures. I reminded myself that they were okay, that I did a good job, and then I set the camera aside, determined to cast the day's trials away from myself. I got up and went to take a shower.

I emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and more serene. I sat and worked at my wet blonde hair with the fluffy hotel towel, yawning contently.

I put up my feet on the coffee table and leaned back, peering around at the quiet, still hotel room. I turned on the TV but turned it off again when I remembered that everything was in Spanish.

I sat in the quiet, looking at the dark curtained windows. It was too late to go out and take pictures, but too early to go to bed. I looked at my camera and considered uploading some of the pictures to Facebook, then quickly shook my head and looked away, not wanting to think anymore about the day's activities. I stood and picked up the camera, taking it across the room to the table and putting it into my sleek black camera bag. I stood in the quiet and looked silently around the room, searching for something to entertain myself with.

Finding nothing, I returned to the couch and sat cross-legged on it, staring listlessly into space and listening to the stillness of the night. I sighed just to hear the sound, and then focused on the chair across the room.

I hesitated, then slowly stood up and moved silently to it, bending down to pick up the stack of CDs in my hand. I looked down curiously at them, then spread them out in my hands to see the covers. The one on top showed the three boys, in younger versions of themselves, smiling up at me in front of a red curtain, with large white letters proclaiming the name of the group across the top. The same picture was on another CD case, but the curtain was blue and the words "Edicion en Espanol" accompanied the title. Another case had a picture of the boys walking along a street in casual clothing. Ignazio was in the middle, with his arms slung brotherly over Piero and Gianluca, who leaned in toward him as they walked along. The CD was called "We Are Love." Another CD had the same photo, but with the words "Mas Que Amor."

I studied the cases, and then set most of them back down on the chair, keeping "We Are Love" in my hand. I opened it and looked at the intricate floral designs on the CD itself, and admired Valerie's photo of the boys walking along a different street, in different clothes. I couldn't help but smile at the image of Ignazio, who appeared to be squinting cutely against the sun. I reached for the CD and took it from the case, holding it with my thumb and forefinger as I snapped the case closed and set it on top of the other CDs. I went quickly to my laptop and slid the CD in the drive, where I uploaded the music and then transferred it to my phone. I powered down the laptop and went back to the sofa, settling down cross-legged to prepare to listen.

"Okay…" I sighed to myself, sliding on the headphones,  
"Let's see what this group is all about."

I listened as the first notes began, and soft piano sounds followed. I anticipated the singing, and it began immediately,

_"Moonlight draws your colors in the dawn…while the sound of silence in the wind feels…like an empty song…"_

I froze in surprise. The voice, which I identified as Gianluca's, was rich and velvety, with tender undertones that silenced me and demanded my attention.

_ "Don't you ever lose me…I could never lose you…"_

It was Ignazio now, whose voice was sweet and strong, and I stared into space in stunned incredulity.

"Oh…" I murmured, "Oh!"

This was _not _pop music. This was…I didn't know! It was different from music I usually heard.

_ "Je t'aime mi amor…Io ti amo...We are love…"_

It was Piero's turn, and his voice was powerful and operatic.

This was so different than what I expected. The talent was obvious, and the music was pure and strong and…brilliant. I listened with my mouth ajar and my eyes wide, incredulous and dumbfounded, drinking in the sounds as I reached for the phone and turned the sound up, realizing after a moment that I was trembling.

I sat completely still, absorbing the music in astonishment. As the first song drew to a close and the music silenced momentarily, there was a sinking pull on my heart as I realized that I had been wrong about the boys. They weren't just another pop group. They were…I didn't know. All I was aware of was the transcendent beauty of the music, its brilliance thrusting all my doubts and philosophies back in my face.

As the next song began, I listened as silent realization gripped me and immobilized me until a deep sorrow swelled in my chest. I thought of the halfhearted photography I had done for the boys and my bored demeanor as I tagged along with them wherever they went. All of my frustration and irritability were thrust back in my face, and as I reflected on my work my chest began to hurt and my face reddened. My breaths came fast as I started to cry, and I didn't even lift a hand to stop the tears as the voices of the three boys joined together inside my ears and turned my attention back to my own amazement.

I was struck by the new realization that being Il Volo's photographer was my job, my responsibility! It didn't matter whether or not if it was what I _wanted_; it was what I had! This job was not an inconvenience that I had to bear; it was a responsibility that I had to pour my heart and soul into!

I was no longer a landscape photographer. I was now a portrait photographer, and the incessant longing to be someplace other than where I was needed to be set aside. It was time to let go of my resentment to the boys and accept my responsibility to them.

I was gripped by an intense twisting inside me, and when I saw my red-faced, trembling reflection in the mirror across the room, I yanked the headphones off before I could hesitate, casting the music aside and separating myself from it to think. I stood and went to the mirror, looking into my watering blue eyes and contrite, pained expression. The silence surrounded me, and I sniffed and wiped at my eyes as the voices of the boys still echoed vaguely around me, unwilling to let me sort out my thoughts alone.

I grabbed my red high-tops from the floor and pulled them on, hopping toward the door in a desperation to separate myself from the strength of the feelings tugging on me and demanding my attention. I flung open the door and slammed it behind me, hurrying down the porch steps and forward into the dark, quiet evening.

"Tamzin!?" someone called, and I whirled around to face Ignazio, who was standing on the porch several feet away. He seemed especially tall atop the steps, watching me. His face was etched with concern, especially when he saw my face, red and teary-eyed. He quickly came down the steps and jogged toward me as I drew swiftly back and shook my head at him.

"Tamzin, are you okay?" he asked as he came toward me. "What's wrong?"

I looked up at his dark eyes, his rich voice echoing in my mind.

"I'm just going for a walk," I said quickly, cursing my unsteady, sorrowful voice.

"Can I come?" he asked, and I stepped back and shook my head as he approached. I smiled sadly, my lower lip trembling as the tears threatened to spill over.

"Not this time," I said, and then turned and sprinted off into the night, trying to muffle the aching cries that rose from within me.

I sprinted and stumbled through the still Guadalajara night in tears until I tripped over a root in a forest and stayed down, leaning against a tree and pulling my knees to my chest, sobbing as I tried to distance myself from everything I had longed to become. I imagined my visions and the exhilaration of my fantasies, and then clung to them more tightly then I ever had before I tore them from my grasp and felt a strange dizziness as I separated from them. It hurt deep in my chest as I locked away these longings for a later time. In a year I would return to Harrison, where I could have my dreams back for keeps. For now, I could no longer envision myself as the unwanted photographer for National Geographic, and instead I must accept my position as the photographer for Il Volo. I had to let go of my expectations and absorb myself in the duties that were assigned to me, and I couldn't do that if my whole being was a bitter longing to have something I didn't have, to be someone I couldn't be yet.

I tore away from myself the misguided ideals and my resentment toward the boys, and scorned my poor performance thus far, bearing the painful protests of my heart. I desperately tried to rid myself of the shame that arose when I thought of my laziness the past few days concerning the portraits, but it latched onto me and persisted, wearing away at my trembling heart.

I pressed my fists into my eyes and cried until all of my tears were gone. Eventually I was hunched over on my knees in the cool dirt, listening to the silence around me with my eyes closed, feeling the powerful emptiness inside me. I wasn't a National Geographic photographer, and I couldn't be for at least a year. For now, I had to be Il Volo's photographer and accept this identity. I sighed to listen to my voice, and reeled at the pain and weariness within the sound. I looked up into the silent darkness, and I reached up to grasp a dirty tree branch, pulling myself to my feet and pausing to make sure I could stand. I felt so weary, and I stood still for a moment, feeling the movement of air throughout my lungs to be sure I was still alive and whole. I released the branch and took a shaky step forward, starting my journey back to the hotel room.

I moved cautiously over the dead, crackling leaves on the forest floor, thinking that only Il Volo's photographer could enter the hotel room and that before I left the forest, I had to become that.

I quietly stumbled forward through the forest, leaving the place where my now selfish, lost fantasies were buried and would remain until I was able to accept them back under better circumstances and fulfill them, when the year was up.

A silent ache accompanied me as I trudged over the cracking twigs and whispering grass on my return to the hotel. A great anxiety filled me as I drew closer to it, and I opened my mouth to voice the words I knew I had to embody. I found myself unable to speak, and when I reached the edge of the forest, I stopped, staring ahead into the dark, vast unknown of the night. I tried to move and couldn't, not until I had said the words that were my promise to the boys.

I mustered my strength and closed my eyes, recalling the beautiful music I had heard to give me the courage I needed.

"I am Tamzin Montgomery, photographer of Il Volo," I whispered, and then paused as the quiet, shaky words dissipated into the night. I hesitated, and then said them again, proclaiming them to the witnessing stars and moon, "I am Tamzin Montgomery, photographer of Il Volo!"

The words echoed around me, and I was almost surprised to hear them and feel the way they felt on my heart. I stood there at the end of the sheltering forest, absorbing the first few moments of my new identity. Then I stepped out from under the trees, and was absorbed by sleepiness so intense that I almost sunk to the ground and slept in the security of my new promise.

But I moved forward, through the dark quiet, and eventually saw the brilliantly warm glow of the hotel lights. I yawned and moved toward them, trudging up the porch steps to the door, rubbing my eyes and yawning. I stopped when I saw a small wrapped box at the doorstep, and I reached down and picked it up. I surveyed it in confusion, then cautiously pulled off the paper and looked down in surprise at the cookies in the clear plastic container. I pulled open the lid and read the note atop the cookies.

_ "Here's your official welcome to the Il Volo team, Tamzin! I hope you feel better about whatever's troubling you… -Ignazio."_

He bakes?

I took a cookie and bit into it, and then opened my eyes wide as I tasted it. He bakes!

I smiled, and then threw my head back and laughed, and clasped the box to my chest as I entered the hotel room and ran to the couch, snatching up my phone and pressing the headphones over my ears as I started the music again. I sank onto the cushions and let myself be lost in the music, taking in the beauty it was now my job to promote. The aching emptiness inside me was forgotten as I listened, absorbed into the tender peace of the music. I listened in silence, nibbling on the cookies to make them last longer, and when the CD ended I rushed to the stack on the chair and uploaded them all to the laptop. I curled up on the sofa and started the next CD, and I restlessly listened to all of them, late into the night and early morning, shaking and tearing up and closing my eyes to hear their voices singing in my ears, until the last song on the last CD ended and the silence made me submit to my exhaustion.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I stirred and gradually came to my senses, slowly removing my arm from where it was draped over my eyes to peer around the room. I lay draped over the couch into the hotel room, my head on a pillow against one arm, and my feet, still inside my red high-tops, propped up on the other. It was cool inside the room and very bright, and the early sounds of the morning came in from the closed back door: birds chirping, cars honking, people chatting distantly as they moved outside and inside the hotel. My headphones had slipped off and were lying against my side, and the phone was stuffed into the couch cushions. I reached out and took it out, looking at it and remembering my late vigil of Il Volo music. I closed my fingers around it and pushed myself up, taking my feet from the arm of the couch and sitting up. I looked down at the phone in my hands as I reflected on the night before, remembering my new promise to give my best to Il Volo.

"I am Tamzin Montgomery, Il Volo's photographer," I said softly, and nodded in approval.

I thought about what that meant for my landscape photography passion, and I decided that I would still take pictures in every place we traveled to, as provisions for the end of my time with Il Volo. I couldn't be a photographer for National Geographic now, but I wouldn't forget that one day I would be. But I now had to recognize the importance of my current job, and give it the work it was due.

I stood up and walked to the window, pulling back the curtain to peer outside. It was very bright, and I looked at the hotel room's clock and found that it was past nine. My long night had made me sleep late into the morning. I looked back out the window and saw after a moment Ignazio sitting on the porch steps in front of his room, quietly observing the country stretched out in front of him.

I lingered on the sight of him, and thought about my previous prejudices against him. I felt as though I should feel remorseful, but in the moment I felt more cautious than penitent. I studied him, peering out the window with new consideration. His brown eyes were bright and sincere as he gazed into the distance, and there was a faint smile on his lips. His hair was long and wavy and soft-looking, and as I watched he reached up and ran his hand through it. His eyebrows were dark and thick, above eyes surrounded by slight, handsome shadows and dark lashes. He was broad-shouldered and tall, but had a gentle appearance and a sweet face.

I observed him and felt a sudden compulsion to speak with him, to make my new promise apparent to him as though to make up for our past encounters.

I let the curtain fall over the window and moved to the door, wrapping my hand around the cold knob for a moment before I lifted my chin and pushed the door open.

Ignazio turned and looked up at me as I stepped onto the porch and proclaimed, "I need to talk to you!"

I faltered when he smiled brightly and said in his Italian accent, "Of course, Tamzin! Come and sit."

He patted the space beside him on the porch, and I hesitated before closing the door and striding over, lowering myself cautiously down beside him and putting my red-high topped feet on the step next to his large blue tennis shoes.

He smiled expectantly at me, making me look immediately away, realizing I hadn't thought about what I was going to say. I stared instead at my shoes and waited for him to say something. He didn't press me, and we sat quietly side by side on the porch.

"What kind of music do you sing, again?" I eventually asked.

"Operatic pop."

"Oh…right." I fell silent again for a minute, still fumbling with what to say. "I listened to the CDs last night," I said finally, looking up to see his reaction.

He looked immediately eager, and he smiled and asked, "You did!? Which ones?"

"All of them."

He laughed.

"You listened to all of them last night? That must mean you like them, right?"

I looked away, unable to hold his eager gaze, and he quieted. Out of the corner of my eye I watched his smile fade as he waited, and I tried to cast off my pride at the original determination not to listen to the CDs.

"I loved them," I admitted, and could feel him smiling beside me in approval.

"I'm glad," he said gently, and I nodded and listened to the sounds of the morning, fully aware of him beside me as I fumbled to find something to say.

"So…how's your morning going?" he asked finally, disrupting the silence between us.

"Ignazio," I said, finding my voice and turning toward him, positioning myself on the steps to face him. He turned slightly toward me also, looking at me with those earnest eyes as I found the simple words to say, "I am Il Volo's photographer." I watched as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at my declaration, and when he opened his mouth to speak I shook my head and continued, trying to assure him I meant it. "You, and the other boys, and Michele and Barbara are going to be very impressed with me. I'm going to get photos so brilliant you wouldn't believe I could get them until you see them for yourself." I looked down in embarrassment at my shoes as I muttered, "Let's just say that my work so far was…practice." I looked back up at him to make sure he was paying attention as I continued, holding his gaze to make him listen. "I'm going to be the best photographer Il Volo has ever had. You won't be disappointed in me."

I gazed confidently back at him, daring him to challenge my determination. He looked surprised and confused, and then he nodded and smiled at me.

"I don't doubt it, Tamzin," he said gently, and I nodded.

"Good. Don't. "

I stood up suddenly and brushed the dirt off my shorts.

"Oh, will you tell Gianluca and Piero what I told you?" I asked, and he nodded. I turned and headed back toward the door, and he laughed suddenly, making me pause and turn back to him.

"Tamzin, am I ever going to understand you?" he asked, his eyes shining good-naturedly.

I took in his bright smile, and then gave in and shared it with him.

"Nope!" I said, shaking my head at him.

"Well," he said as I opened the door to my hotel room, "I'm going to try."

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, and then moved to the window and peered out at him. He was smiling, and I watched as he got up and stood to his full height of about six feet. He shook his head and went into his hotel room, and I turned away from the window and looked around my hotel room.

I strode to my suitcase and pulled out my laptop and Valerie's portfolio of Il Volo's portraits she had given me. I grabbed a pen and slid my headphones over my ears, settling down at the table to learn all I could about photographing the boys before their first rehearsal that night.

Driven by the boys' music in my ears, I flipped through Valerie's photos and marked all around them in pen, noting the boys' most notable features and the angles that captured them best. I studied the lighting in the images and made notes about where the shadows fell on their faces and how to manipulate the light into giving them the best appearances. I studied their different facial expressions and their hairstyles, and read through comments on Il Volo videos and forums to find what the common opinions were on the boys' different styles. I grabbed a notebook and jotted down my own observations, filling the pages with helpful doodles and diagrams for myself. I gave myself a crash course on the boys, and when the evening came I removed the headphones from my ears to say the words again, "I am Tamzin Montgomery, Il Volo's photographer!"

When the boys and I went to their rehearsal that night, I was awed by the immensity and grandeur of the empty concert hall. When the boys sang, I was glad that it was not the first time I had heard the music, so that I wouldn't have the same reaction of the night before, though the music still surrounded me and elevated my heart. I got my camera and started taking my pictures, playing with angles from the whole theatre. I ran around in front of the stage and moved backstage. I crept behind the boys and around them, and moved backwards in the aisle and crouched to get some nice shots. I ran up into the balconies to get aerial shots, and I took pictures pretending to be an audience member in different places of the theatre. I engaged myself completely in the job that had to be done, and fervently applied myself to the portraiture. I pushed away longings to be elsewhere, and I made myself work even harder when I began to feel restless and bored.

When the boys finished practicing, I separated myself from them to review the pictures, unwilling to let their eyes fall upon a single mediocre shot. When Michele decided we could return to the hotel room, I rejoined the group burning with feverish determination.

I kept quiet on the way back to the hotel, suppressing wishes to be anything other than Il Volo's photographer, and I reminded myself that I didn't have to completely give up landscape photography when despair rose in my chest.

Back at the hotel, I held out my camera and demanded that the five of them see my pictures. They were tired, but I insisted, and when I sat down they obediently gathered around to see. I turned on the camera and began to show then the photos, flipping through slowly to allow them to absorb everything working in the compositions.

I studied their faces, expecting more than simple approval, and sure enough, I got it.

"These are spectacular!" Barbara exclaimed, gripping my shoulder as she bent over the camera looking intently at the photos.

"Wow! They're…wow, Tamzin, I certainly picked the right photographer didn't I!?" Michele said in awe.

The three boys were staring into the picture on the screen, and I waited for their response.

"Woa," Piero said, and Gianluca nodded.

I watched Ignazio, waiting, and he stood up and looked down and smiled secretively at me.

"I think…" he said, nodding at me, his eyes shining playfully, "You're going to be the best the photographer Il Volo has ever had, and we're not going be disappointed in you."

"That's right," I said firmly, standing up and slinging my camera over my shoulder. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, everyone."

I turned away from them and strode away, holding my head high and letting the camera bounce against me as I felt all of them staring after me.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Guadalajara concert was the next evening, and it was the first of many that I would experience. I slunk around the stage and backstage, trying to get good pictures while still staying out of the way, and I managed greatly. The next morning, we left Guadalajara and moved onto Puebla and then to Mexico City to have more concerts and meet-and-greets, and then we left Mexico altogether and went to Venezuela. We moved quickly, never staying more than a few days in one location, and the rush was both exciting and tiring.

I fervently applied myself to Il Volo, always rushing around to get good angles and try new ideas for the photos. I immersed myself entirely in the world of Il Volo, surpassing what was expected of me. There was not another time when I resigned from my duties, and I always anticipated and received great reviews on my photos from the boys, Barbara, Michele, and the fans-the Il Volovers.

The boys always cooperated with me whenever I asked anything of them, and the four of us kept up a friendly dialogue, though I always refused to accompany them on their personal, non-business related outings. I shied away from them outside of our travels together, keeping myself in place as their mere but attentive photographer.

Though I fully immersed myself in my new responsibilities, the portraiture quickly became mundane for me. I was not excited and energetic as Valerie had predicted, but instead was restless and anxious. Every morning, I had to make myself go out with the boys, and I separated myself from my longings to force myself to embrace the work assigned to me. As I worked, I refused to entertain daydreams and pinings to be elsewhere, and I chastised myself for acknowledging weariness. Though I pretended I was interested in the work to try to convince myself it was the truth, a constant boredom nagged at me and tried to slow down my progress. I constantly had to remind myself that I was the one and only photographer of Il Volo, and then untangle myself from any differentiating dreams while I was working.

Though I was disappointed with the mundane nature of the job, I was exhilarated with the rush of traveling. I was determined to get pictures of every place we visited as training for my future career, and I went out early in the mornings and, if I could, during sunset to get the pictures I needed. These were the times when I felt free and ambitious, and I could run over the earth pounding it with my red high-tops as my camera bounced against me. I searched for the best photo locations, exhilarated by the pleasure of capturing the environment on my screen. I released myself from the bondage of being a portrait photographer for a short while each day as I allowed myself a brief glimpse into the beautiful future.

I lived for these moments and dreaded the end of my free time, when I had to accept back my job and identity as Il Volo's photographer.

Il Volo traveled faster and faster, flitting from one location to the next and putting on concerts so rapidly that it made me question how the boys could do it. Every concert was perfect, their voices stunning and their attitudes excited and confident.

As the schedule tightened, the time that I could slip away and get my landscapes grew narrow and strained. The whole Il Volo team worked late into the evenings, especially at meet-and-greets after concerts that could last past midnight. Then by the time we were back in whatever hotel we were staying at and in bed, it was early in the morning and we were exhausted. The boys always slept late into the morning, before whatever event, interview or practice they had during the day, but I got up to review my pictures.

We moved so quickly and worked so diligently that keeping up with everything I was doing grew more difficult, and it came to be that I had to choose between going out and getting my landscapes or sleep.

I did not choose sleep.

I got out of bed early in the mornings and left the hotels to immerse myself in the landscapes. There wasn't one tour stop that I didn't photograph, and though I immensely treasured my time capturing the world around me, the lack of sleep began to take its toll on me.

I felt tired all the time, and this grew more and more intense as my routine continued through the month of September. I couldn't remember the last time I had lain down and really slept for a long time. I felt as if I had to sneak in time for naps whenever I could, but eventually even that time was taken away from me as the Il Volo schedule tightened even further. I was always in motion, and I was left feeling weak and sluggish. I refused to submit to my weariness while I worked, but on returning to the hotel, I was prone to sink onto the ground as the aching of my muscles overwhelmed me. I yawned incessantly and had headaches that frustrated me because they threatened to disrupt my work. I caught myself staring into space occasionally and chastised myself by working even more diligently. The rush of interviews and concerts prohibited me from sleeping during the day, but I was prone to doze while in the shower or while uploading Il Volo's photos to social media.

The constant tiredness was persistent and exasperating, and the coffee and energy drinks I hyped myself up on quickly left me feeling even more tired, forcing me to abandon energy aids. I snuck in naps whenever possible, but overall I just had to bear the fatigue and force myself to work as September slowly trudged by.

On one occasion, at a concert rehearsal in mid-September, I felt so weak and tired after getting Il Volo's photos that I settled into a seat in the front row of the theatre, cradling my camera in my lap and leaning my head on my fist on the arm of the chair. I felt small and cold, and I shivered and rubbed at the goosebumps on my legs, peering up in frustration at the air conditioning vents on the ceiling.

I sighed softly to myself and looked up listlessly at the boys on the stage, and I saw that Ignazio had broken away from the group and was coming toward me. I watched as he came to the edge of the stage and hopped down, approaching me and giving me a smile that I did not return.

He walked up to my seat and I peered up at him as he shrugged out of his jacket and then held it out to me. I looked up at his gentle smile in surprise, and my first impulse was to refuse it, but the longing for warmth made me reach out and accept it. I sat up and put it on, sliding my arms into the fabric that was warm from being around Ignazio. He slid into the seat beside me, and I turned and gave him a small grateful smile, which he immediately returned.

"Tamzin," he said, leaning toward me, "I need to ask you something."

"What's that?" I asked wearily.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Of course I'm okay."

He was quiet, studying me.

"I'm worried about you, Tamzin."

"Why? I didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't say you did anything wrong. You just look…so tired!"

"What are you saying?" I snapped.

"Simply that you seem tired, my dear," he responded, unfazed.

"My dear?" I asked sarcastically.

He didn't acknowledge my comment and continued, holding my gaze to prod me to listen.

"I've been watching you. You yawn, you rub your eyes, you stare into space… Yesterday you dozed off in the car."

I stared at him in stunned silence.

"I know, I watched you. You woke up after a little while when we went over a bump, but you had fallen asleep only after a few minutes. Did you know that falling asleep within five minutes is a sign of sleep deprivation?"

I didn't respond, and he reached out and gently fingered his jacket that was now around me.

"And you're more sensitive to cold."

"Is that a sign of sleep deprivation too?" I asked, accidentally sounding more curious than sarcastic.

"Yes, it is. So, Tamzin, why are you so tired?"

"I'm not tired," I said, but I sounded sleepy even as I said it.

"You are. Why are you so tired? What are you doing instead of sleeping?"

"It's none of your business!" I snapped.

"Hmm…" he said playfully. "Snapping at me. Another sign of sleep deprivation."

I glared at him and stood up quickly.

"I'm going outside for a walk. It's too cold in here."

"Oh, Tamzin, don't get frustrated with me," he said, reaching out and taking my arm. "I just want to know if you're alright."

"I'm fine!" I snapped, pulling away and shrugging out of his jacket. "And here's your jacket back! I'm going outside!"

He reached out and caught the jacket when I tossed it to him, and stared after me as I turned and walked away, struggling stubbornly against my fatigue.

When I woke up in Costa Rica a few days later to my blaring alarm clock, I was frightened to find myself almost immobilized by the desire to go back to sleep. I reminded myself that if I did not get up, I may not get another chance to photograph Costa Rica, so I forced myself to roll over, tumbling out of the bed with a frustrated cry. I trudged through my hotel room getting dressed and eating breakfast, and when I stood up quickly from the table, everything went blurry and I almost fell. I was able to regain my balance, and I grabbed my camera and stumbled outside into the vast expanse of vegetation that covered the country.

I found that I moved more slowly in my weary state, and I found it hard to focus on the land as I was overtaken by spells of dizziness. I pressed on, increasing my pace and gripping my camera, determined to capture the scenery.

When I returned back to the hotel after sunrise to get ready for the interview Il Volo was headed to, all I wanted to do was lie down on the floor and take a nap, but I knew I couldn't. I got myself ready to go and left with the boys, struggling to stay awake.

The day stretched out before me as the desire to sleep persisted. I tried to forget about being tired, but I couldn't rid myself of the unrelenting fatigue. I made myself work, but groaned inwardly as I forced myself to move about and get good angles. I felt as if a stronger part of me was dealing with a stubborn child as I ordered myself around, feeling overwhelmingly frustrated at times with the work set before me.

In the late afternoon the boys had to practice for their concert the next night, and the dim lights of the theatre subdued me and thrust me into a sort of trance that I was unable to shake off. I moved around the stage, stumbling at times and growing frustrated as I took photos and tried not to long for the quiet of my hotel room.

As the manager of the theatre arrived and came to talk with the boys, I sat on the edge of the stage and reviewed the photos I had taken. They were great, but I was too numb and listless to feel a sense of pride. I flipped through them, unamused, deleting ones that hadn't come out right. I looked up and my vision slowly focused on the huge empty theatre in front of me. Realizing it might be prudent to get a few pictures for the website and social media pages, I struggled to my feet and got the photos.

Michele was now talking to the theatre's manager, and the boys were wandering around onstage and talking, moving the microphone stands and discussing the concert the next night.

I stood at the edge of the stage and watched Ignazio play around with Piero. He was wearing his casual blue polo shirt and jeans, and as I watched he laughed and then grabbed a microphone stand and moved beside Gianluca. The three boys talked softly and then looked out over the imaginary audience as Gianluca began to sing. The other boys joined in after a moment, and I smiled at the beauty and richness of the sound, standing still on the stage.

I focused on Ignazio as he began to sing, and a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt myself sway a little and held my hands open at my sides at I tried to regain my balance. My vision began to clear, and Ignazio caught me gazing in his direction and smiled brightly at me, his strong voice surrounding me. I turned away and looked out over the empty theatre, and then made the mistake of looking downward as another wave of dizziness overtook me.

I felt as if I was floating, and I squeezed my eyes shut in fear that I would collapse. I didn't fall, and the panic gradually lessened.

I needed to sit down. Quickly, before I fell over and made a fool of myself. As the ringing in my ears blocked out the angelic harmonies of the boys, I turned and sought out an escape, quickly starting toward the passage leading backstage as I reached up and held my head in my hand. I stumbled and quickly caught my balance and sped up again, especially when I heard someone call my name behind me. I hurried down the backstage hallway, moving nimbly and unnoticed past the busy stagehands.

Feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, I looked into a dim dressing room and then stole inside, slipping my camera off of my neck and placing it safely on a makeup table that I leaned over and gripped for support, my head spinning. I heard my name echoing down the hallway and I whirled around, startled and feeling weak, as the door was shoved open and Ignazio appeared in the doorway, his shoulders blocking the light behind him.

"Tamzin, are you alright?" he asked, looking concerned, and I nodded quickly and waved him away.

"I'm okay, Ignazio, go back and rehearse."

"Are you sure? Why did you leave?"

"I'm fine!" I insisted, "Go, Ignazio!"

"Tamzin, you look pale."

He moved foreword, and I drew quickly backward and swayed, reaching for my head as Ignazio took my elbow. My head pulsed with the effort of keeping myself from falling in front of him, and I pleaded internally that he would go away so I could sit and…faint?

"Tamzin?"

"I'm _fine! _Go away!" I snapped, and immediately the dim light of the room darkened as I was overcome by dizziness. I lost my footing and fell, shamefully dropping to the ground as Ignazio immediately reached out and wrapped an arm around my middle and placed another firmly on my back to catch from hitting the ground. As I fell into a desperately needed sleep, I felt myself lifted and wrapped tightly in warm, gentle arms.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I listened quietly to Ignazio speaking in the distance, unaware of anything except the cadence of his richly accented voice. I heard another voice that sounded like Barbara's, and after a few moments I heard a door open and close loudly, bringing me to my senses. I stirred and opened my eyes, looking around at the unfamiliar room in sudden alarm. It looked like my hotel suite, except for the arrangement of the furniture and the belongings placed haphazardly about the room. I was in the bed, curled under the comforter in my T-shirt and jeans. I moved slightly and felt that my feet were bare, and I saw my red high-tops beside the closed bedroom door a few feet away. Someone had taken them off for me. The room was wonderfully quiet, and I relaxed and rolled over to peer out the window at the darkening evening light. I curled up again and closed my eyes, resting quietly for a few minutes before a clinking outside the bedroom reminded me that I was unsure of where I was. I opened my eyes and looked at a photo beside the bed, finding it to contain Ignazio, presumably his parents, and a girl several years older than him, probably his sister.

The smiling face of Ignazio embarrassed me, and I held up the covers and slid out of the bed, prancing over the cold hardwood floor to my red high-tops as I wondered about slipping out of the suite unnoticed.

After I tugged on my shoes and ran a hand through my hair, I raised my hand to the cold doorknob and took a breath before opening it.

Ignazio was sitting on the couch, his back to me as he watched a soccer game in Spanish on the television. He turned, his arm slung over the back of the couch, and smiled at me.

"Good, you're up. I was beginning to think you'd miss dinner, and I didn't want to eat without you."

I stood frozen in the doorway as he turned off the T.V. and stood, coming around the sofa to lean against the back of it and wait for me to speak, a gentle smile lighting his face. His dark eyes shone with careful concern as I stood motionless, embarrassed and unnerved at the mental image of being held in his arms only hours earlier.

"Dinner?" I asked finally, and he nodded and smiled brightly.

He stepped away from the couch and went over to the table in the corner, straightening and gesturing dramatically over it. "Dinner."

There were two plates on the table arrayed fancifully with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage. I gawked at the table, and then at him.

"You made dinner?"

"I made dinner."

"I love breakfast for dinner," I said softly, thinking about the clinking sounds of him moving around in the kitchen that I had heard from the bedroom.

"Then you'll stay?" he asked, pleadingly, clasping his hands together and casting silly puppy-dog eyes at me.

Actually, I wanted nothing more than to slip out and run away from my embarrassment and the awkwardness of having to eventually thank him for taking care of me, but I felt it would be too rude to leave the dinner uneaten, so I crossed cautiously to the table and sat. He smiled and sat in front of me, and I uneasily waited to eat until he started first.

I took a bite of the eggs and couldn't help but smile.

"Good?" he asked.

"Good!"

He nodded in approval and resumed eating, and the quiet made me squirm nervously, waiting for him to bring up the earlier occurrence.

To my surprise, he looked up at me and asked nonchalantly, "So…I doubt you've seen much of it because of how busy we've been, but what do you think of Costa Rica?"

I paused, with my fork halfway to my mouth, and looked up at him in bewilderment.

"Costa Rica?"

He smiled slightly, trying to hide the amusement at my position that his eyes betrayed by shimmering and dancing.

"Yes, Costa Rica."

I lowered my fork.

"Well…it's brilliant! There are so many plants and trees wherever you look, and everything's so lush and green! It's such a beautiful, rich green too! And there are creatures everywhere, crawling all over the place! Monkeys, birds, butterflies, frogs, and snakes, too, but I guess they've got to live somewhere, right? The fruit trees have all these perfect displays of color and life, and the water is so bright and welcoming! And the forests, so secluded and dangerously inviting! I love it! It's perfect!"

I smiled eagerly at him, and then fell silent as I realized that was the most I've probably spoken to him that whole month.

"I agree!" he said back happily, and I smiled slightly at him. "I went out for a walk this morning, and everything's so gorgeous!"

I nodded and listened quietly as he started to describe to me the beauty of places we had yet to visit, and a powerful, excited longing swelled within me as I drank in the information.

Then we talked a bit about the Il Volo concerts I had been present at, and we discussed Michele, Barbara, the band members, and Piero and Gianluca. We laughed about their habits I had observed, like Piero's chewing his tongue and Gianluca's slight obsession with taking selfies.

I was feeling rather friendly toward Ignazio as we ate dinner together, and his warm laugher and hospitable personality eased my nerves and comforted me. He was a great storyteller, and his beautiful accent enriched the stories that captured my attention and made me laugh for the first time in a while.

When we were finished, Ignazio picked up our plates and brought them to the kitchen, and when he turned to me after picking them up, I could tell in his eyes that he was going to say something about earlier. I fell silent as my stomach twisted with unease and embarrassment.

"So, Tamzin, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I immediately responded, and then paused to think about it. I still felt very tired and weak, but the hours of sleep I had stolen from the rehearsal had made me feel a little better.

"Tamzin, I've been commissioned by Michele to get some explanation from you. He was calling a doctor, but I told him to hold off and just let you sleep."

I waited quietly for him to continue, clasping my hands together nervously.

"Why are you so tired all the time?"

Unable to meet his gaze, I looked out the window at the darkened sky, my mind racing as I tried to produce an acceptable response.

"Tamzin."

He said my name firmly, and I looked up and then thought about my camera for the first time since I had awakened.

"Ignazio, where's my camera!?" I asked in alarm, standing up straight and fearfully demanding an answer. He looked surprised at my apprehension, and pointed toward the sofa. I whirled around and hurried over to it, reaching down to scoop it up tightly into my arms, turning it and examining it intently.

I turned it on and flipped through the last few pictures I had taken, making sure they were intact. As I looked through them, a sudden realization hit me and I looked up at Ignazio.

"You didn't look through the photos, did you?" I asked firmly, daring him to try to lie.

He shook his head and shot me a quizzical look.

"No, I didn't. But why couldn't I? You always show them to us anyway."

I held my camera tightly, hiding the landscapes from him as I glared stubbornly at him.

"I still want an answer," he said firmly.

I slung the camera over my shoulder and crossed my arms.

"About what?"

"Why are you so tired? Are you scared about something? Are you sick? What's wrong?"

I raised my eyebrows and kept my mouth shut, shooting him a defiant message that I wouldn't enlighten him.

He sighed and ran a hand slowly through his hair as his eyes flicked upward and he thought. When he looked back at me, his eyes took on a gentle appearance, and he tilted his head and gazed softly at me.

"Tamzin," he said quietly, and it was so soft and tender that I dropped my arms and listened curiously. "You can't keep working when you're that tired."

I stared bewilderedly at him, and then through him as the words rang true in my mind.

He was right. I couldn't keep doing this. I couldn't live all of my days in exhaustion, deprived of sleep as Ignazio had mentioned earlier. Something would have to give in, and that something was my physical strength and ability to work. I had already fainted once, and I couldn't allow it to happen again. I realized with an inward groan that I couldn't expect all the symptoms Ignazio had mentioned-the headaches, dozing, and sensitivity to cold- to dissipate as long as I continued living like I was. I had to start sleeping like a normal person, gaining more than just a few short hours each night. Otherwise, I would have more days where working felt impossible and exhausting. I felt relief run through my tired body at the idea of getting more sleep, the thought of allowing myself some time to lie down and close my eyes.

But what did that mean? Where would I take the hours of sleep from? Immediately I knew, and I stiffened with an irrepressible protest.

_No!_ I shouted inwardly. _No! I will not give up the landscapes! I may not be able to work for National Geographic right now, but I need to have the landscapes!_

A powerful sorrow filled me at the realization of the necessity of the sacrifice. I struggled inwardly, anguished as I fought to find a way to keep the wild outdoor romps that were so dear to me. I sifted frantically through arguments, searching for one that would justify my committal to my landscapes and coming up empty-handed. Preparing for my future was not a good excuse to hold myself to a point of exhaustion so terrible that I could not physically bear it.

My breath came faster as I felt everything I had struggled to keep slipping away.

I realized that I could no longer have such a big commitment to my landscapes. Occasionally I might be able to find the time to gather some, but continuing the daily romps was impossible. If I was going to be the photographer for Il Volo, then I had to entirely commit myself and hold onto nothing else. Working for Il Volo was a huge responsibility, and it now had to be more than just a responsibility of mine. It had to become the main focus of my life.

Despair coursed through me as the thrill of my outdoor photography sessions was pulled away and replaced by a responsibility that I didn't care so much to have.

"Tamzin?" Ignazio asked concernedly, pulling me momentarily from drowning in my agony. "You have a strange look on your face."

I focused on him with an anguished look in my eyes, and we stared at each other.

"Why can't you tell me what's making you so tired?" Ignazio asked gently, and frustration exploded within me as he tried to coax my ambitions out of me.

"Because it's MINE!" I shouted hysterically, startling him, "All day long I force myself to work for you guys, and this is the one thing that's exclusively mine! I don't want to let go of it, and all of you, ALL OF YOU, are trying to pull it away! Can't I keep it for myself!? Can I PLEASE keep it!?"

I was shouting at him in desperate fury, as if I yelled loud enough I wouldn't have to part from my landscapes. As the words surprised Ignazio and he looked at me in startled confusion, my eyes filled involuntarily with tears that immediately brimmed over and rolled down my cheeks.

My chest twisted as my fury faltered and was replaced by deep distress.

"Tamzin!" Ignazio immediately approached me with quick strides, and I drew back quickly, longing to escape.

"I'll figure something out! Goodnight, Ignazio!" I said, my voice broken and woeful, and I turned and yanked open the door, darting into the hallway and rushing to my room.

"Tamzin, hold on! Wait!" Ignazio called, and I sprinted down the hallway and frantically opened the door to my room as Ignazio called my name in the hallway. I turned to hurriedly close it, but Ignazio appeared and caught it, holding it open.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" I cried at him through my tears, struggling frantically against the door and trying to shut him out.

"Tamzin, hold on," he said gently, his eyes filled with worry as he refused to let me close it.

"I'm okay!" I said, trying to stop the tears and failing.

"Tamzin, the last time you told me you were okay you fainted in my arms! Besides, you're not okay. You're crying!"

I blushed violently and pulled away when he pushed open the door and moved to come inside the room, sighing irrepressibly in despair and then glaring at him. I went to the sofa and dropped down on it, quickly pulling my camera from around my neck and placing it gently on the coffee table.

I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my head in my hands and cried quietly, unwilling to let him hear me sob but wishing he would go away. Instead, he quietly closed the door and came to sit beside me on the sofa. I moved away and sat at the end of the couch, hiding my face from him. Anguished tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought about having to get rid of my exhilarating daily photo sessions. I clenched my hands in frustration and longing to be able to keep them, but knowing that I couldn't. I had to focus on Il Volo and my physical health, and put aside the landscapes for now. I tried to reassure myself, reminding myself that I could still go out sometimes, but I seemed to be absorbed only in the many lost photography sessions.

"Tamzin," Ignazio said gently, "You don't have to tell me whatever it is. Just make sure you take care of yourself, okay? You have to get some rest."

"I know. I will," I said, muffled, into my hands.

"Hey," he said gently, and I felt him move closer to me on the sofa. I felt his warm hand rest gently on my back, and I lifted my head to peer up at him.

"It'll be okay," he said softly, moving his hand up my back to gently stroke my hair. "Things will get better. We're always busiest when we're in Latinoamerica."

I looked up at him, hoping that he was right, that things _would_ get better.

I hid my face again, and he kept his hand on my back, gently reminding me of his presence as I quietly reflected on his words.

"I'm sorry," I said sadly and softly after a minute, raising my head and looking into his gentle eyes as I wiped my tears. "I'm just tired."

"I know," he said softly, and leaned forward to reach an arm around me and pull me toward him for a hug.

I stiffened, but when his arms went gently around me I sat still and didn't protest. He was warm and gentle, and his grip was firm and comforting. I cautiously moved my arm around his broad shoulders and he held me tight as I quickly wiped my watering eyes so my tears wouldn't wet his blue polo shirt.

"This is always the busiest time of the touring, when we go through Latinoamerica.," he said again as he hugged me, reassuring me, "We move so quickly that it's hard to catch your breath."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see it the way he was holding me.

"Things will slow down soon, and it'll be better," he said soothingly, his hand gently running up and down my back.

"Ignazio," I said, pulling back from him and wiping my eyes again before I looked into his dark, gentle ones. I looked down and fidgeted with my hands. "I'm sorry I was…rude to you before."

"It's alright. Like you said, you're just tired."

"No," I said. "Not only earlier. I mean this whole month. I'm not usually this mean, I promise."

I looked up at him and found him smiling brightly down at me.

"It's alright, Tamzin," he said, reaching up and tucking the blonde strands of hair hanging in my face behind me ear. "You're just adjusting to the new job. It's stressful."

"Um…sure," I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Tamzin, if you're willing to tell me, I still want to know why you were so happy a few weeks ago, that morning when I was on the porch and you came in from outside. You were laughing to yourself, and you were so happy. That's the only time I've seen you truly happy this month. I realize it probably involves whatever you don't want me to know, but what were you doing that was so important you got up at five in the morning to do it?"

I looked down at my red high-tops and thought about it, and Ignazio remained quiet, waiting to see if I would answer. I looked sadly at my camera on the coffee table and then up at Ignazio.

"It's not so important anymore. At least, it can't be. For now, anyway."

He looked at me quizzically, and I sighed at the painful truth of it, leaning my head against my fist and turning to look out the darkened window. For a while, I had to part from my landscapes. I knew that if I took pictures the next day, I'd want to take pictures when we went to our next location, and that would convince me to continue my created tradition of photographing every location we went to. I had to break the chain. I looked sadly at the window, and my eyes filled with pained tears yet again.

I could feel Ignazio watching me, and when I turned to look at him I was surprised to find that he was watching me with a concerned, somber expression. As I looked up at him, he reached out to pat me comfortingly on the knee, distracting me from my thoughts with a sweet smile.

"Let me tell you a story," he said with a bright smile, and I wordlessly consented, suspecting he was trying to turn my thoughts away from what he saw was bothering me and hoping that he would succeed.

For the first time, I heard the story of how he became the singer he was: in 2009 he started his career on the Italian TV competition _Ti Lascio Una Canzone_, and though Gianluca ultimately won the competition, the three boys joined together to create Il Volo.

Ignazio described to me the beginnings of their career together and the making of their first album. I listened curiously, feeling that I should know this information if I was working for them. Ignazio added special flair to his storytelling, telling side jokes and sub-stories, and playfully reenacting crucial moments for me.

I smiled and listened, watching him as he lavished all of his attention on me and attempted to pull me away from my distress.

The story successfully lightened my mood, and when he sang to me I felt serene and upbeat. As I listened to the rich cadence and accent of his voice, my sleepiness told hold of me and I leaned back against the couch in surrender to the fatigue. I kept listening as my eyes grew heavy and closed, and soon I heard the pleasant sound of his hushed laughter.

"Tamzin," he said softly, and I opened my eyes wearily and saw him smiling at me. I closed my eyes again and wearily turned my face away, and he reached out and placed a hand on my arm. "Don't let me keep you up, Tamzin. Get up and into bed. You need to sleep for a long while tonight."

I nodded slightly and reached out my hand for a hold to pull myself up, and I opened my eyes as I felt his hand intertwine with mine. He stood and gently pulled me up with him. He reached out and enveloped me in a warm hug and kissed my cheek, making me shy sleepily away from him.

"Goodnight, Tamzin. Sweet dreams," he said softly, and then stepped backwards and showed himself out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The next day when I awoke, the outside light was bright and the sun fully risen. I shuffled out of the bedroom and pulled on a wrap sweater over my pajamas before going out on the balcony. I leaned on my arm on the railing, staring painfully at the wondrous landscape under me and in front of me. I didn't have any pictures in the midday light, and I desperately wanted some. I knew that if I went out and got them, I would fall back into my cycle of taking daily landscapes. I had to go at least a few days without them. I sighed heavily and looked longingly down from the balcony, feeling as if I was going through a sort of withdrawal.

I pulled myself away from the unattainable beauty and retreated back inside, sitting down and curling up lazily on the couch. Though I had slept for a long while, I still felt tired. I suspected that it would take several days to recover from my deprivation. I gazed out the window at the balcony, holding myself back with all my might and trying to subdue my frustration. I longed for a distraction, and was appeased when there was a knock on the door.

"Tamzin, are you awake?" Ignazio called through the closed door, knocking again.

"Yeah," I called back, moving my head from where it was buried dejectedly in the couch pillow to speak.

"Can I come in? I want to talk to you."

I got up reluctantly from the couch and ran a hand through my tangled blonde hair on the way to the door. I pulled it open and looked at Ignazio standing in the doorway, surveying his bright smile, his dark messy hair, and his soft-looking sweater and jeans.

"Good morning," I said, unintentionally sleepy-sounding, stepping aside to let him in, and he smiled gently after I closed the door and leaned against it, watching him.

"Well, afternoon, now."

"What!?"

I turned and looked at the hotel room clock, startled to find that it was three in the afternoon.

"Oh! Oh no, Ignazio!" I said in shock, turning back to him. "I missed the interview!"

"It's okay!" he quickly reassured me, smiling, "We didn't wake you on purpose. Michele and I talked last night about you, and I told him that you were sleep deprived. He decided to let you off for the day so you could rest."

I stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, and then I glared at him.

"No!" I said forcefully, curling my hands into angered fists. "You should have woken me! I am your photographer! You can't let me off like this! I have to go with you guys, understand!? It's my RESPONSIBILITY!"

I was raising my voice in frustration, and Ignazio looked at me in confusion.

"It's alright, Tamzin! You can rest today."

"NO! I have to go to work, okay!?"

He gazed silently at me for a moment and then held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay," he said softly. "Sure, Tamzin."

"I'm coming to the concert tonight," I said, folding my arms defiantly.

"Okay."

We stared at each other for a moment, his face blank and mine supporting a fierce glare. Then he smiled brightly, trying to get me to smile too, and I dropped my arms after a moment as I watched his cheerful expression.

"Come talk with me?" he asked, going to the couch and sitting down.

I hesitated, and then moved forward and sat beside him, waiting expectantly.

He looked at me with a sudden somber look in his eye, and I stiffened subconsciously as I observed it.

"What?"

"I was thinking last night, for a long while, actually, about what you said yesterday."

"What did I say?"

"When you were telling me, or rather, _not_ telling me, about why you were so tired…you said that you force yourself to work for us."

I stared dumbly at him for a moment as I cringed internally.

"Oh…"

I shook my head quickly and moved closer to him, reaching out and quickly grasping his arm to make him listen, realizing apologetically that I had insulted Il Volo.

"I was tired, Ignazio. I didn't know what I was saying! I didn't mean it!"

He shook his head and looked at me with solemn, gentle brown eyes.

"I think you meant it."

I looked back at him as I realized I couldn't convince him otherwise, and I took my hand from his arm and looked down at my feet, searching for something to say.

"You really don't like working for us?"

"I…I work hard, Ignazio. I do a good job!"

"That's not what I asked."

He spoke gently, but I felt my face flush with embarrassment and I avoided his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you can't help it. I think I knew already. You work fervently, Tamzin, but you don't have that spark in your eye like you did that day when I saw you on the porch."

I looked up at him somberly, and we watched each other for a moment. Then I hardened my expression and crossed my arms.

"You didn't tell Michele or Barbara, right?"

"No. I won't tell them, Tamzin. I just wish that you could have the same joy about Il Volo that the rest of us do."

I fidgeted and chastised myself inwardly for allowing Ignazio to find out about the mundaneness I was experiencing. I dropped my arms and smiled softly and hopefully at him.

"Maybe I will. Eventually."

I felt rather hopeless when I said it, especially with the sun shining on the tempting landscape outside the window, but Ignazio nodded and gave me a gentle smile, to my relief.

"I hope so. Maybe this will help you feel better."

I watched as he took something from inside his sweater and handed it to me.

"Here."

I reached out and took it from him, examining it as he watched.

It was a new Il Volo CD, one I hadn't seen before. It was a Christmas CD, and the cover contained a flattering photo of the three boys all dressed in black suits. Though it was a nice photo, I noted the lack of festivity it contained.

"Did Michele mention that we recorded a Christmas album during the summer?"

"Yes, but I thought it wasn't supposed to be out yet. It's only September, after all."

"It's not out yet. But since you're part of the team…"

He smiled secretively and leaned toward me to jostle me playfully. I smiled and looked up into his eager eyes, deciding not to remind him that I was just the photographer.

"Thanks, Ignazio."

"Sure, Tamzin. Tell me, what do you think of the cover?"

I looked back down at the picture.

"It's Valerie's work?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Well, it's good, of course, but…not very festive, don't you think?"

I looked up at him, and he nodded.

"That's what the producers have been thinking. It's pretty short notice, but they want us to have a new cover shoot."

"Oh."

He smiled at me.

"That means you, Tamzin."

"Oh! Really?"

He laughed.

"Yes! You're our photographer now, so you get to do the shoot! There's a designer in Chile who's going to get our outfits, but the pictures are all yours."

"Oh. Okay."

I looked at the CD case and imaged my own photography on the cover. A hint of excitement stirred inside me, but then evaporated when I realized it would just be like my normal day-to-day job. The boys would dress up and pose, and I'd snap a few pictures and then hand them over to Michele.

I looked up at Ignazio.

"Why are you telling me this? Isn't this something Michele should tell me?  
He laughed, and I smiled at the bright sound.

"You're right," he said, "But I think they see me as the only one having access to you at the moment, since I'm the only one who's seen you since yesterday at the theatre."

"Oh." I blushed slightly and turned my face away from Ignazio, recalling vividly the theatre's events.

"I guess I'll go," Ignazio said, smiling at me. "Piero, Gianluca, and I are going bike riding before the concert. Do you want to come?"

I shook my head quickly, thinking it was best to keep myself out of the landscape, and Ignazio nodded.

"You're right. You should probably stay in and rest. I'll see you tonight at the concert?"

"Absolutely. _Do not_ leave without me, alright?"

"Okay. I promise. If I don't leave without you, then they can't leave without you either, right?"

I smiled suddenly and nodded at his playful expression, tracing the edge of the CD with my fingers.

"Right, Ignazio. I'll see you tonight."

He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and I stiffened and stayed frozen on the sofa as I watched him leave my room.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The next place we visited after Costa Rica was El Salvador, which, unfortunately for me, sported beaches, mountains, national parks, blooming flowers, forests, _and _volcanoes!

"They have EVERYTHING!" I cried in uncontained fury as I threw down a pamphlet upon our arrival to the El Salvador Airport.

Michele heard me and laughed, but I turned away so he couldn't see my unadulterated frustration.

I ran a hand through my hair and took in a deep breath as I avoided the beckoning landscape outside the airport windows. I clenched my fists and glowered intensely at the pamphlet on the floor as someone came up beside me and nudged me.

"What!?" I asked impatiently, turning and immediately quieting as Ignazio held out my suitcase to me. I took it from him and ignored his raised eyebrows and inquiring eyes.

"What's wrong, Tamzin?"

"Nothing…" I sighed, failing to be convincing as I rolled my eyes impatiently.

Ignazio bent down and picked up my pamphlet from the floor, unfolding it and smiling as he turned it toward me.

"This stop is going to be so much fun! Isn't this place beautiful, Tamzin?"

I was shaking in frustration, and I glowered at the picture.

"Gorgeous." I growled, yanking up the handle of my suitcase and plodding away, leaving Ignazio staring after me.

I restrained myself from going out with my camera, though the scene outside the hotel window was enough to reduce me to frustrated tears. There was a constant longing burning in my chest, and an intense desire to capture the environment.

_Break the chain, _I repeated again and again as I pulled the curtains shut over the window and pledged not to photograph this location on the tour.

I hoped to sleep through my usual photography time and wake when I had work to distract me, but to my distress, I woke at my usual early time, as my schedule had conditioned me to do. I repressed the impulse to get up and go outside, and instead lay in the hotel bed shaking with a determined disposition to refrain myself from getting up until it was time to get ready for work.

Every moment we spent in El Salvador was agony to me, especially painful when Ignazio invited me to tour a volcano or go hiking with him and the other two boys. I was in constant battle, and on the day we left I had a weary sense of accomplishment coupled with panic that the cycle was about to be broken.

On the plane to the next stop, Nicaragua, I was exhausted and grateful for a ceasefire while we were in the air. Though I had broken the chain, I knew I couldn't return to my landscape photography quite yet. If I went out, I'd want to stay out, and I'd slip back immediately into my old ways. I was still sleep deprived, and I needed some more time to focus entirely on Il Volo before I considered returning to my landscapes. I felt so disheartened that I could cry, and I hid my face from Ignazio, who was sitting beside me. I let my weariness overtake me, which I regretted when I woke with my head resting on Ignazio's shoulder. He was asleep, too, but I wondered with embarrassment who'd fallen asleep first.

I decided through a solemn meditation on the plane to go two weeks without my landscapes, reasoning that that would be enough time to restore myself to health and refocus my life around my job before I accepted back my landscapes. I looked out the window as we flew over Central America and bore the longing that engulfed me as I imagined and wanted to duplicate the National Geographic photos of the Nicaragua beaches.

As Il Volo traveled and I struggled with my longings for outdoor photography, I worked with a perpetual irritability that arose when Ignazio came around to speak and joke with me, and sometimes to ask if I was okay when he observed my frustration. I had to consciously restrain myself from responding to him with sarcastic remarks, and I constantly had to reprimand myself for glaring. I reminded myself that it wasn't Ignazio's fault I had to separate myself from my photography.

After more than enough tour stops filled with repressed ambition and continuous moodiness, my attitude shifted to a continuous listlessness that I had never before experienced. I worked as I always did, but didn't think much of anything. It had been about a week since my last landscape endeavor, and I questioned if the listlessness wasn't better than the irritable longings. It was a defense from the internal battle, an uncaring disposition that successfully subdued the longings that I couldn't entertain until the end of the two weeks. I felt somber, and I endured everything that was asked of me with a pressing mundaneness.

I was quiet and expressionless, and I gradually adjusted to Ignazio's increased presence beside me. Though I attempted to be cheerful around Piero, Gianluca, Michele, and Barbara, I allowed myself to be somber around Ignazio, since he was by my side so often.

He seemed to be strangely observant of me, and I knew he was aware of my new listlessness when he fervently tried to cheer me up and engage me in our surroundings.

"Isn't this a beautiful country!?" he'd ask at every tour stop, which he couldn't have known the pain the question caused. I declined to go exploring with him and the other two boys, partially fearful that going out would reawaken my longings, which I'd prefer to keep controlled until the end of my two weeks of desolation.

Ignazio was very silly sometimes, prone to adopt dramatic poses and silly voices and do funny dances to entertain me. A small smile from me would appease him for a while, until he returned to re-analyzing my solemn disposition. I think he wanted to somehow restore me to the happiness he had witnessed on the porch when I came in laughing with my landscape photography. Though now I was surrounded by lush green forests and golden sunshine, my days were pretty bleak.

Every so often Ignazio would take me by the arm and ask me why I was upset, but the secret was mine to keep. I would shy away from his touch and tell him that I was just tired, and he would look somberly at me and tell me then to get some rest. Then he'd let me remorselessly escape the question, until the next time he'd present it again and receive my desolate silence in return.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As my two weeks of desolation drew to a close and a subtle excitement germinated in my chest in anticipation of the end, it became time for Il Volo to stop in Chile and have the photoshoot for the new Christmas album cover.

We would be meeting with a well-known Spanish designer who called himself Marc, and he'd have the plans for the cover as well as the boys' outfits ready. We'd spend the day getting the shots, and Michele would collaborate with the producers, who would be flying in to finalize the work on the album.

On the day of the shoot, the boys, Barbara, and Michele left for Marc's office, and I stayed behind in the hotel to update the Il Volo web page. Michele assured me that there'd be a while before they were ready to actually begin the shoot, and I agreed to come at a later time.

As I sat in the quiet hotel room saving photos to my laptop, I studied the old CD cover and meditated on what angles and positions I would try to capture when I went to Marc's studio. I wanted the photos to be especially good, as the new cover with my work would represent me as a photographer. But I still regretted that this was the work of mine that most people would see, instead of my landscapes in the pages of a National Geographic magazine.

I comforted myself with the hope that when the year ended and my contract drew to a close, perhaps National Geographic would want to offer me a job from the photos I'd take along my travels with Il Volo. At this thought, a familiar longing and a panicky reminder that I had skipped photographing a few countries shot through me. I stopped myself from turning to glance out the window, knowing the view would intensify the feeling.

I desperately tried to return to my listless state, which was easier to bear than the incessant longing. I muffled the desperation as I buried myself in my portraits again, determined to mask it until I was freed from the two weeks and could return occasionally to my landscapes. I was discouraged that the longing had returned, and I tried to bar my mind against the excitement, shutting out the anticipation of good things to come.

I moved quickly through the portraits in front of me with a determined frustration to focus on Il Volo, and I worked fervently until Michele called.

"Marc says we'll be ready in a while to start shooting. Apparently he's hiding the designs from me because he wants to surprise me, but he told me to bring you over. I'll leave in a moment and head over to the hotel to pick you up."

"No, that's okay!" I said quickly, wanting to have a bit more time by myself to shut out the longings and tame my agitation before I rejoined any of the Il Volo associates.

I got up from my laptop and dressed to go, feeling frustrated and irritable as I got my camera and pulled on my red high-tops.

I went out and asked an English bellhop to help me get a cab that took me to the studio, a huge building bearing the name MARC in enormous bright letters across the entryway. I slung my camera around my shoulder and looked up at the building, raising my eyebrows at what I perceived was its flashy arrogance.

I shook my head and took a deep breath before going inside and looking around for a hint of where I was supposed to go. Seeing no indicators, I went right up to a desk, ducking under the railing as I approached.

"I'm supposed to be meeting with Marc," I told the woman, and waited impatiently as she held up a finger and finished typing. She turned to me and looked me up and down, and I raised an eyebrow and posed a hand on my hip as I waited for her answer.

"He's meeting with Il Volo at the moment. The only one who can see him now is their photographer."

I lifted my camera above the desk so she could see it and gave a dramatic bow, much like one Ignazio may have given but more dominated by agitation than coyness.

"Tamzin Montgomery, at your service."

"Oh! My apologies, second floor! The elevator's over there."

I gave a quick nod and turned to go up the stairs out of spite.

I walked down the hallway to the huge studio, my gait suggesting that I wasn't in the mood for nonsense. When I came to the door I saw Michele through its window, standing at the opposite side of the room conversing with the designer and some other, older men that I recognized as the Il Volo producers. I watched them curiously for a moment and subconsciously smoothed my hair, wanting to make a good impression. I look at Marc, and saw that though he looked eager and prideful, Michele looked somewhat off-put as he gazed past him. A few girls, probably interns, stood along the wall observing the scene around them.

I took my camera in my hand and shoved open the door, which announced my entrance with a bang as it pushed aside a stray rack of clothes that was too close to the door.

I saw Marc's dirty look out of the corner of my eye, but I was more interested in Barbara's disdainful expression aimed across the room.

I turned and stared in stunned silence at the scene before me.

The boys stood in front of a white screen, talking and looking down to observe their own clothes.

I couldn't take my eyes off of them in disbelief as Michele came over and stood beside me, with the producers following him.

"This-" he announced, laying a hand on my arm, "Is our new photographer, Tamzin Montgomery!"

I tore my eyes away from the boys and smiled.

"Hi."

I let the producers hug me as Michele introduced them, and afterward I turned and looked at the designer, who stepped forward and extended his hand to shake mine.

"Hello, Tamzin! I'm Marc! Welcome to the studio! So this is your first real photoshoot, huh? I remember those days!"

He laughed, and I observed him quietly with a raised eyebrow.

"I trust that you'll get the best photos for Il Volo, so I'll let you take up my cover idea and run with it. Michele says you're the best photographer Il Volo's had yet! Oh, and see those girls over there? They're my interns. They'll get you whatever you need, anything at all!"

I turned and looked over at the boys again, and Marc put an arm around my shoulder, which I eyed indignantly as he steered me away from Michele and closer to the boys.

"Well…this is the idea! Isn't it great!? Just imagine it on the cover...Can you see it!?"

"Oh, I can see it, all right," I said scornfully, shrugging off his arm as I continued to stare at the boys.

The three of them were wearing suits, but they were some of the strangest suits I'd ever had the misfortune to look upon. Gianluca's was bright red and plaid, with a gross dark green tie. Piero was standing in the middle of them wearing a similar suit, but his was a bright, plaid green with a red tie. Ignazio was the worst of the three, wearing a light blue suit decked out with mockingly cheerful white snowflakes, and I cringed at it. I stared with disdainful disbelief, and I looked up and raised my eyebrows at Ignazio, who replied with a sheepish smile in agreement.

"Well…" Marc said eagerly, clasping his hands together and smiling at me expectantly, "I guess I'll let you get started, then."

I slowly turned my head to him, incredulous, then shook my head.

"No," I said firmly.

"What?"

"No. These are all wrong!"

I gestured to the three boys standing in front of me and he stepped back defensively.

"Excuse me? I am a professional-"

"This is so wrong! What in the world are you thinking? These suits are ridiculous! Red and green plaid, and snowflakes!? This is a photoshoot for a CD cover, not a children's Christmas program!"

"It's festive!"

"It's ridiculous! What in the world are you going for here!?"

"Amen!" Ignazio suddenly cried out, throwing up his hands as Piero and Gianluca laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Michele," Marc snapped, turning away from me, "Control your photographer!"

"Tamzin," Michele said softly, moving closer and weaving in and out of clothing racks, stacks of magazines, and camera equipment.

"Oh geez, you had Gianluca's hair slicked back!? And where in the world are Piero's glasses!? Can he even see!?"

"Not really," Piero confirmed, nodding at the space above my shoulder, and Gianluca fingered his hair disdainfully.

"Oh geez!" I said, shaking my head, "You've got this all wrong. These outfits are nonsense!"

"Um, yeah, Marc, I don't think this is what we envisioned…" Michele started, running a hand sheepishly through his white hair.

"No, it's better!" Marc protested firmly. "Trust me; the public will love the outfits!"

"What!?" I nearly shouted. "They're ridiculous!"

"They're whimsical!" Marc whined, turning to me.

"WHIMSICAL!? Do you even know what Il Volo IS!?"

I turned and looked around for a copy of the CD, and saw one with the old cover balanced on a stack of camera equipment a few feet away. I went over to it and snatched it up, then returned quickly to Marc and held it up for him to look at again.

"See this? Look at this photo. Does it look _whimsical_ to you!? _This_ is the way Il Volo is meant to be portrayed, not like THAT! Have you even ever listened to an Il Volo CD!?"

"Actually, I have," he said, folding his arms and giving me a fierce glare. And who are you to tell me-"

"Good, then you know about them! Their voices are rich, powerful, handsome! There's nothing whimsical about it! The music is deep and beautiful, transcendent! They're brilliant, and I'm not about to let them be made into fools!"

I shook the CD for emphasis, and then put my hand on my hip and defiantly returned his glare.

Our eyes locked in a quiet confrontation, I suddenly became aware of the silence reverberating throughout the room, and broke from the stare to look to Michele, wondering if he was upset with me.

Instead, he seemed to be watching me curiously, as were the producers, and Barbara was suppressing a smile behind them. I looked past Marc at the boys, and took in Ignazio's incredulous gaze. When I looked into his eyes, they shone secretively and he smiled brightly, revealing his dimples.

Marc suddenly held up his hands and stepped away from me, shaking his head.

"I'm done," he said, "I'm not directing this photoshoot anymore. Boys, hand over the jackets. Maybe someone _else _will appreciate them."

"Done!" Piero said, shrugging remorselessly out of his plaid green coat. "Can I have my glasses back now?"

"Wait…" I said softly, startled, looking to Michele and the producers to see if they were angry that I had derailed the whole photo session and ticked off their hired famous designer.

Marc quickly redirected my attention when he folded his arms and scornfully declared, "Well then, if my idea's so wrong, what do you suggest the cover should be?"

I looked at him incredulously.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! You _obviously_ know what you're doing! What do you suggest?"

I looked at his condescending gaze for a moment before turning thoughtfully to the boys. They obediently tossed aside the weird jackets and stood tall for me to observe them. I looked over each of them quietly, thinking quickly and raising my hand absentmindedly to my lips as I pondered the scene.

"Okay, here's what I want," I said firmly, straightening authoritatively as Marc uncrossed his arms in disbelief. "First of all, I need Gianluca's hair redone-Gianluca, can you fix it and give me your usual look?"

He smiled and nodded.

"I need someone to find Piero his glasses-the normal red-framed ones. Then Ignazio, I'm sorry, but you _have_ to shave. It's getting out of hand."

I turned away from Ignazio's dramatic pout and addressed the producers who were observing the scene.

"I think red would be appropriate for a Christmas album, and very classy, too. There's no Il Volo CD out yet with the boys dressed in red, and I think it'll be a nice look for them. Rich, vibrant, passionate, exactly how we want to portray them!"

I turned back to the boys, looking them up and down as I gestured to Marc. "Get me a sort of medium red, not too dark, but not too bright either. I want something rich and bold…Picture a red rose."

I heard the interns scrambling around eagerly behind me, and I continued, my voice getting louder and quicker as the picture of the cover formed more clearly in my mind and confident excitement bubbled inside me.

"Alright, the black pants are fine, but I want black dress-shirts too. Button-up, with nice collars. I want Gianluca in a traditional red suit jacket, long sleeves, normal black tie. I also want him in the middle of the cover."

I paused as the boys rearranged themselves, and then focused my gaze on Piero.

"The Il Volovers seem to like Piero's vests, so I want a red button-up vest, with a black bow-tie, not a regular tie! The fans adore the bow-tie on him!"

An intern rushed up beside me holding a red jacket, and when I approved it and watched her rush back into the clothing racks, a feeling of exhilaration coursed through me. I turned quickly back to the boys with a sudden smile that switched to a determined smirk when I jumped on the task of choosing Ignazio's outfit.

"Okay, Ignazio…" I said, meeting the bright, incredulous look in his eye. As I met his gaze, a matching, friendly eagerness struck me and I smiled brightly as I decided what would be best.

"Okay, I don't want Ignazio in a suit, or even a dress shirt anymore. I'm thinking black leather, a thick jacket, long-sleeved, of course, with a nice collar. Emphasize the broad shoulders. No tie, the leather will be fine by itself. Okay, GO!"

Immediately there was a flurry of activity as Barbara hurried Gianluca away to fix his hair, Ignazio went in search of a razor, Piero went with an intern to track down his glasses, the producers left the room to converse, the interns rushed around frantically, and Michele went to pacify a protesting Marc, whose cheeks were the same color as my desired materiel.

I found a rolling chair and pulled it to the side of the room and sat, watching the activity and feeling the passionate rapidity of my heartbeat. I hadn't felt this exhilarated since I had last been lost in my landscapes, and I grasped the previous Christmas CD and studied the cover, picturing with tremulous excitement the new cover I was about to produce. Nervous energy prompted me to leap up from my sitting position and stroll about the room, hunting for good angles and observing the lighting as I approved and disapproved clothing items that were brought to me.

I waited for the longest time for the boys to return, and when Ignazio finally came back looking handsome as ever without his beard, I seized him and sent him off with the black leather to change.

"Go, go!" I said with breathless exhilaration as I hurried him off, "Go put it on, now!"

He laughed at me as he left, showing off his dimples as he exclaimed joyously, "I'm going, Tamzin, I'm going!"

I paced feverishly even when the producers came back in and watched me.

Ignazio returned in the company of Piero, each wearing their new clothing, and I clapped my hands in unconcealed jubilation.

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed triumphantly, ordering them to stand before the white background with an exultant smile.

I walked around them, looking them up and down and nodding in approval.

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed again. "You guys look great! Now we just need-"

I paused and turned to the door as it opened and Gianluca came in, wearing the red jacket and gingerly touching his slightly damp restyled hair.

"Gianluca, you look great!" I exclaimed, "Come on, let's do this!"

He looked up at me in surprise, and then smiled and hurried to join Piero and Ignazio.

I looked them over approvingly as the interns and the rest of the Il Volo team re-entered the room.

"Okay, guys," I said, stepping up before the boys and adopting a serious expression, "Here's what I want for facial expressions. Piero, you first."

I stepped up in front of him and he smiled and waited expectantly.

"In the past you've been made to have a sort of gentle smile, without showing teeth, but your fans adore your real smile and your laugh, so when I take the picture I want a bright laugh, okay? Full smile, all teeth showing, okay? And I think your best bet, angle wise, for this shoot is to face slightly sideways and turn your face toward the camera, like you did on the very first Il Volo CD. The fans loved that one, it was great! Stand up straight, though, and hold your chin up! We've got to see the bow-tie!"

He smiled and nodded quickly, and I stepped sideways to stand before Gianluca, who gave me a crooked half-smile.

"Perfect!" I said quickly, startling him, "I want you to look just like that! Do the smile again!"

He laughed, and then flashed the crooked half-smile again.

"Brilliant! Just like that! You're the more serious one, so I want that famous Gianluca half-smile. Focus on being handsome and serious, okay?"

"Handsome and serious? I'll do my best."

"Angle-wise, shadows work excellently for you, so tilt your head down a little so we get some nice ones. Not too much-though, or you'll look scary. Got it?"

He nodded, and I moved and stood in front of Ignazio, who smiled brightly at me, his eyes shining playfully.

"How's this?" he asked, and immediately assumed a dramatic serious face with pursed lips and his thick eyebrows raised, straightening and putting his hands on his hips as he tilted his head drastically downward.

I laughed suddenly, and he dismissed the pose with an eager, surprised grin.

"Maybe next time," I laughed, sharing a smile with him.

I shook my head and resumed my feverish productivity.

"This time, I want you to turn a little sideways, opposite way from Piero, and look straight into the camera. As for facial expression, with you, it's all about the eyes."

"The eyes? Hmm…"

He looked at me thoughtfully, raising his eyebrows slightly, and his eyes shimmered as he smiled.

"Like that!" I said, holding out my hands eagerly. "I want that shimmery, playful look you have. That's what really charms the fans. Do you know how many tumblr photos there are of just your eyes? Just try to show that brightness you have."

"I'm not sure if I can just make my eyes "shimmery" on command," he said as he laughed.

"You always manage it when you smile at me," I said thoughtfully, and his laugh softened as his smile grew gentler.

"I'll just smile at you, then, before you take the photo," he said.

"You do that," I said in approval, stepping back and turning away.

"Wait, Tamzin, how do you want me to smile?"

I grinned, knowing that I'd have no trouble getting a good smile from Ignazio.

"Whatever feels natural."

He nodded, and I turned toward the producers. I clapped my hands loudly and everyone turned their attention to me. "I'm ready to start!" I proclaimed, and Michele and the producers nodded approvingly and told me to go ahead.

I whirled around to face the boys and beamed as I held up the camera, the cool metal in my hand contrasting the heat inside my chest. I took hold of the photoshoot and grasped the situation in the palm of my hand, using the camera as an extension of myself. I saw the image in my head come to life on the screen as I rushed around the boys, dashing foreword and back as I watched the images shift on the camera's screen. I hunted down the perfect shots and seized them as I knelt down and leaped onto chairs while demanding the boys pay attention to me. I ran back and forth driven by wild excitement, positioning myself to get good shots as the boys held their poses for me. There was only me and the boys, and I reveled in my ambition, thinking of my own image on the cover of the new CD.

At last I stopped, breathless, looking down as I flicked through the images on the screen in my hands. Seeing them flash in front of my face, I laughed out loud at the bubbling energy inside me, and then pulled off the camera and held it in the air triumphantly.

"Done!" I cried, turning to the boys with a broad smile on my face. Ignazio beamed back and clapped his hands together, and Piero and Gianluca laughed and joined in. Michele began too, and the producers followed, pulling me back into the studio and alerting me to their presence as they applauded me.

At once, I flew to the producers and offered them my camera.

"I did my best!" I declared, and the one in front of me reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder, smiling.

"Well done, Tamzin! Michele's chosen a great photographer! Come with us now and we'll review the images and attempt to pick out the best for the cover."

I nodded.

"Let's do it, then!"

Michele turned to the boys and directed them to return to the hotel with Barbara while we had our meeting with the producers.

"We'll show you the ones we narrowed it down to later," he told them, "This'll take a while to pick out the best."

I returned to the hotel a few hours later clutching a CD case fitted with a new prototype cover, _my_ cover. I unlocked my hotel room door and went inside, shutting it behind me and leaning against it as I took in everything that had happened that day. It seemed like a fantastic dream, and I held up the CD in front of me as proof that everything was real. I went to the counter and set down my camera, and then rushed to the window and threw back the curtains to smile at the Chilean landscape. There were only a few more days until I could reunite with my landscapes, but for now I had something new to be happy about. I laughed out loud in excitement as I turned away from the window and held up the CD case again.

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed, gripping it tightly in my hands as if afraid it would evaporate in front of me. I went back to the counter and set it down beside the camera, then turned and listened to the quiet room unaware of my exhilaration.

The quiet was broken by a loud, eager rapping on the door, making me jump, and I leaped backward in fright when the door was flung open. I watched as Ignazio burst into the room and kicked the door closed behind him as he dashed up to me.

"Tamzin!" he cried, and his brilliant smile and shining eyes made me feel the rush of exhilaration all over again. He bounded up to me up took me by the arms, surprising me with his exuberance. "Tamzin, that was amazing! You were amazing! Oh, you should have seen yourself, taking charge like that, telling us exactly what you wanted! You were great! Did you see the look on Marc's face!?"

He laughed out loud, and I laughed with him and nodded eagerly.

"That was so much fun, Ignazio! I haven't had so much fun since…well…It was just so great! I loved it!"

"So you had fun today!"

"I did! I did, Ignazio, it was so much fun!"

Ignazio's grasp on my arms tightened and he pulled me close to him for a hug. I stiffened at first, surprised, but then smiled and reached my arms around his back.

"I'm so glad!" he said, and then pulled back and smiled gently at me, and I reached out and took his sleeve in my fist, tugging on him.

"Come see the CD case, Ignazio! It's brilliant!"

I went to the counter and grasped the CD, hiding the picture against my shirt until he sat down at the cabinet and waited eagerly.

"Look!" I cried, flipping it around and handing it to him.

He reached out and took it from me, smiling and nodding approvingly.

"I love it!" he said, nodding at me, and I sat beside him and smiled.

"Me too!" I said, and then laughed.

I quieted when I saw him smiling gently at me.

"What?" I asked, and he slid the case back to me and then leaned on his arm, watching me.

"Nothing," he said, shrugging, "It's just good to hear you laugh. You know, since you started working for Il Volo, I've only really seen you happy one other time, when you came in from outside, that day when I was sitting on the porch in Guadalajara."

"Oh," I said thoughtfully, looked down at the CD case and reaching out to feel the cool plastic in my hand again.

"I still want to know what made you so happy, if you're willing to tell me," he said, and I didn't look up at him. "Anyway," he said after a moment's quiet, his voice soft and reflective, "That day in Guadalajara, you had this spark in your eye, this ambitious, determined joy."

I looked up from the counter and into his sweet brown eyes, and he smiled gently. I watched him quietly, thinking about how Ignazio could recognize a spark in my eye.

"You had the same look in your eye today."

I smiled at him, and he smiled brightly back, his dimples showing.

"We like this happy Tamzin, the boys and I," he said, and playfully leaned over and jostled me. I smiled and shook my head, and he checked his watch and then stood, and I stood with him.

"The boys and I are about to go out for dinner. Will you come with us?"

"Come with you? Just the four of us?"

"Yes, it'll be fun! Please, Tamzin?"

I hesitated, remembering the first time I had dinner alone with the boys, and Ignazio dramatically dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together, pulling a pouting face. I laughed, and Ignazio smiled up at me.

"Please come with us! We want you to come with us!"

"Okay, okay, Ignazio, I'll come!"

"Yes!" Ignazio jumped up, smiling eagerly, and offered me his arm, which I decided to take for once instead of dismissing it. Together, we strolled out of the hotel room.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

My long-awaited day of release finally came, and my self-implicated binding was broken on the day of October first. When I stepped out of the hotel, trembling with anticipation, I gripped my camera in my shaking hands and closed my eyes to breathe in the fresh air. The crisp, cool October air of Buenos Aires held promise of returned excitement. I opened my eyes and sprinted away from the hotel, eagerly reawakening my dormant ambitions and drawing them back to my heart. Buenos Aires had more cityscapes to offer than the lush forests of El Salvador, but it was enough to send me into a frenzy of tremulous excitement. The early morning light found me transfixed by the world around me, romping through long streets of buildings that pierced the sky.

Every ounce of suppressed merriment returned more brilliantly than ever, seizing me in a joyous, vivacious rush. The fresh, cool air invigorated me and spun me into wild excitement. My heart raced and my head spun in accompaniment with my constant laughter. The lonely streets were all mine to seize, and they surrendered to my every whim. The land was mine, the buildings free for the taking, and I captured each and every one on the camera screen. For hours I was lost in this transcendent environment, until the blazing sun, the bustling of morning activity, and the rumbling of my stomach persuaded me that it was time to break the spell and return to the hotel.

In an energized, breathless state, I held my camera and watched the red flash of my high-tops against the concrete as I ran back to the hotel. I dashed up the stairs on the side of the homely hotel, onto the outstretched landing lined with welcoming room doors.

"Tamzin!"

I turned and smiled at Ignazio, who was sitting on a bench on the landing looking out at the city, and I returned his friendly wave.

"Good morning!" I called, and he smiled brightly.

"Yes, it is! I was waiting for you to come back!" he said, getting up and moving to the door of his room.

"Why's that?" I asked breathlessly, striding toward our hotel rooms.

Ignazio opened the door to the room and stepped inside, returning after a moment holding a glass that he held out to me.

"I made breakfast smoothies."

"No way!" I cried in delight, eagerly hurrying up to him, reaching out to grasp the glass and smiling at the cold that chilled my hot fingertips. I took a sip and smiled at the blissful goodness.

"Brilliant! Thanks, Ignazio!" I said brightly, flopping down onto the bench and smiling contentedly at him as I slid off the camera from around my neck. He sat next to me and watched me as I took another sip and then gazed lovingly over the railing at the city, pushing my hair behind my shoulders as I tried to regain my breath.

"I love Buenos Aires!" I panted, and Ignazio laughed.

"Me, too, Tamzin. And I love October! It feels great out here! So cool and nice…"

I laughed.

"Yes, but I can't feel it right now! I need to cool off!"

He laughed too.

"I can tell! Your cheeks are all red."

I smiled and leaned back as I sipped the smoothie, sliding down to prop up my feet on the railing in front of us. Ignazio watched me and leaned back against the bench, too.

"And I also love October because my birthday's in October."

"I know," I said, licking the smoothie from the side of the glass as Ignazio watched in amusement. "I'm in charge of the birthday video."

"Oh, you're doing it?" he asked, looking happily surprised.

"Yep, I'm carrying on Valerie's tradition. And how could I not, when I've been receiving hundreds of happy birthday pictures from ALL of the social media sites."

He laughed, and I caught my camera as it started to slide off my lap. I brought it to my chest and hugged it tightly, pulling all the renewed excitement close.

I pulled my feet from the railing and jumped up, going to it and standing before it, gazing outward and grinning uncontrollably. I turned and smiled at Ignazio, who was already smiling at me.

"You look so happy, Tamzin," he remarked, and I gripped my camera and moved back to the bench.

"I am! I-"

I suddenly had the impulse to show him the pictures I had taken on the camera, and I sat beside him and immediately froze when I observed that I was about to hand him the camera. My smile faded and I looked down in confusion at the camera in my hands. I held the camera closer to my chest and looked up at him, observing him.

Was I really about to reveal what I had refused to tell him before? The pictures were mine, my secret, and I wasn't going to share them with Il Volo! They were the last thing I had of my life of being a landscape photographer.

I looked out over the railing.

But…I was still a landscape photographer, wasn't I? It wasn't my job, at least not yet, but I still took landscapes. I was planning for this to be my new routine, being a portrait photographer and going out to get landscapes every once in a while. Maybe I could be both a landscape _and_ a portrait photographer.

I stared into the distance, a look of surprised incredulity and confused disbelief obvious on my face.

I held the camera tightly, still feeling in danger of my photos being discovered and ceasing to be mine only, and I became aware of Ignazio mirroring my confusion.

"Tamzin? What's wrong?"

"I…I'm going inside."

I stood up suddenly, and Ignazio quickly did the same. I went around him and dashed down the landing and into my room, feeling his eyes on me as I went. I closed the door behind me and looked down at the camera in my hand, leaning against the door.

I shook my head and set it down on the coffee table as I passed to the kitchen to finish my smoothie, resolving to keep my photos to myself and be a portrait photographer only in the eyes of Il Volo.

After my incredible experience with the Christmas photoshoot in Chile, it was a disappointment to me to return to my normal Il Volo routine. I was comforted by my release back into the wild endeavor of obtaining my landscapes, but now I had to learn how to balance being both Il Volo's photographer and occasionally taking my landscapes. I decided that I would hold myself back from taking any more photos in Buenos Aires, and instead wait until we were in the mountainous terrain of Rio de Janeiro, our next location, to engage in the thrill of my landscapes again. While I waited the short time until then, I had to tame my frustration with the return of the normality of my job. I tried to get interested, like I was during the Christmas photoshoot, but I fought with boredom and restlessness. I struggled to find balance, trying to focus on Il Volo and not yearn for my landscapes.

Seeing the end of the two weeks away from landscapes energized me, though, and I was determined to find balance between both kinds of photography. I was cheerful and fervent in my work, and my optimism was boosted further by Ignazio, who picked up on my moods and effortlessly improved them with jokes and bright, dimpled smiles.

The first morning I awoke in Rio de Janeiro happened to be Ignazio's birthday, and I slipped away out the small inn's back porch outside of our rooms and ran off into the wilderness.

When I returned a while later in the bright morning light, I paused and watched the hotel from a distance, seeing Ignazio sitting on the porch as he sipped his coffee in the cool morning air.

I quieted, my excited laughter ceasing, my mood dimming as I wondered if he expected a gift from me.

Panting, I slipped my hand into my pocket, feeling the cool metal of the flash drive containing his birthday video, reminding myself that I had at least something to give him. Besides, I was just the photographer, and shame on him if he expected a gift!

With this thought, I flipped my hair behind my shoulders and strolled toward the hotel. I returned his wave when he caught sight of me, and I went up the few porch steps and sat beside him, taking in his sweet smile.

"Good morning," he said, and then turned to gaze at the mountains in the distance and sip his coffee. I took the flash drive from my pocket and held it in my palm, my fingers folded around it.

"Happy birthday," I said softly, and he turned to me and smiled brightly, his eyes shining. I turned away from his gaze. "I didn't get you anything," I clarified, looking down at my red high-tops, but his smile didn't falter.

"That's alright, Tamzin," he said, and I looked up at him, "I don't mind."

"I did make the video, though," I said, and held out my hand and opened my fingers.

His eyes lit up with sudden excitement, and I smiled at his joyous expression.

"You did! That's so great, Tamzin! See, you did get me something!"

He turned and placed the coffee down beside him, and I waited uncomfortably for him to take the flash drive from me. Instead, he reached out for me and pulled me into a tight hug. I gingerly reached up and hugged him back, and he released me after a moment and took the flash drive.

"Thank you, Tamzin! I'm so excited to watch it!" he said, holding it tightly in his palm and smiling at me. "Do you want to come and watch my first viewing with me?"

"Nah, that's okay. I have some stuff I want to do." I looked down at my camera around my neck, suddenly getting excited as I thought about putting the pictures on my laptop. A strong urge to show Ignazio the pictures I had taken that morning filled me, and I smiled brightly and sat up, returning his eager gaze.

"I got some great pictures this morning!"

Ignazio smiled at me and nonchalantly sipped his coffee.

Hearing the words come out of my mouth, I froze in sudden realization of what I had said, feeling even my heartbeat pause inside me. Mortified at my mistake, I clamped my mouth shut and waited for Ignazio's reaction, but it seemed to have had no effect on him.

He did react, however, to my frozen, wide-eyed expression.

"Tamzin?" he slowly set down his coffee again and focused on me, watching me curiously. "Are you okay?"

I stared back for a moment at his concerned expression before jumping up.

"I'm going inside," I said, and then dashed into my room despite his plea for me to wait.

In the safety of the empty hotel room, I sunk down against the wall, staring in disbelief at my camera.

I couldn't believe I had had the impulse again to share my pictures, and even worse, that I had mentioned them to Ignazio!

"Uggghhhh…" I groaned, putting my head in my hands in frustration.

I slung my camera off and pushed it away in disgust at my own foolishness. Confusion overtook me as I thought about Ignazio's reaction, or lack of. He wasn't surprised at all that I had mentioned taking pictures that morning. But then again, I suppose taking my camera with me was a dead giveaway.

But oh, I was so close to revealing all of the secret!

I snatched up my camera and held it tightly to my chest, pulling my hidden landscapes close to my heart. But after a moment I relaxed my grip and gazed down at the camera in my lap.

Would it be so bad, though, for Ignazio to know? In the beginning, I was hiding the secret because it was what I had left, or what I thought I had left, from my past identity of being a landscape photographer while I had to be a new portrait photographer. But now…I supposed I was both, or learning how to be both. Maybe it was okay for the boys, Barbara, and Michele to know now.

I felt confused and weary, and I shook my head and set the camera down, deciding to think about something else and return to the landscapes at a later time.

When I saw Ignazio later, I expected him to ask about what had happened on the porch, but instead, he hugged me and thanked me for the birthday video. I shied away and sheepishly took my place beside Barbara, not wanting to be reminded about the confusing morning. That day the boys had a talk show to perform on, and as the Il Volo team went about the usual endeavors, I thought about my landscapes and tried to decipher why I was reluctant to reveal my hidden passion. I supposed it was because I had clung to it so tightly before, when I felt like it was being taken from me, that now I was fearful about bringing it up and bringing attention to it.

Every time Ignazio glanced at me or smiled at me throughout the day, I shied away, my confusion and embarrassment at the morning heightening.

When we returned to the hotel in the evening, after Ignazio's birthday dinner at a fancy Brazilian restaurant, I felt weary and grateful for the quiet. I took a long, warm bath and changed into my nighttime T-shirt and shorts, trying to relax.

But I couldn't stop reflecting on possibly revealing my landscapes to the boys, and after I had gotten ready for bed, I sat down and pulled on my red high-tops. Then I stood and went to the back door leading onto the porch, pulling it open and stepping out into the cool evening air and the darkening sky.

I shut the door behind me and paused in surprise when I saw Ignazio walking away a short distance from the porch, alone.

He turned when I closed the door behind me, and smiled gently at me.

"Where are you going?" I called, slowly going down the porch steps.

"For a walk."

I stopped before I reached the bottom of the steps, reluctant to continue, and Ignazio watched me quietly.

"Can I come?"

He smiled and nodded, and waited as I stepped off the porch and jogged to catch up with him. When I reached his side, I slowed and we walked leisurely along. I looked up at him, at his silky hair, its dampness revealing that he had also recently taken a shower. His dark eyes were gentle and observant, watching the path in front of us. His hands were in the pockets of his thin sweater, and he took them out after a moment and kept them at his sides.

He felt me watching him and turned his head to me, smiling gently, and I looked away, down at my red high-tops.

We walked quietly together away from the city buildings and onto a manmade forest trail.

"Did you have a good birthday?" I asked eventually.

"Absolutely," Ignazio said, smiling wide. "It was wonderful."

"Good."

The beauty of the forest in the last bit of evening light quieted me into an interested reverence, and I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes for a moment as I took in the scent of the evening air and the forest. I opened my eyes and found Ignazio smiling softly down at me, and I smiled softly back.

"Just taking it all in," I said, and he nodded.

"I know what you mean. It's beautiful."

I nodded, and looked around us as I picked out good photographs and good spots to get into to take them. I longed for my camera every few minutes, and I shook my head and reminded myself that I should wait a few more days until I took more landscapes, to work on the balance I wanted between the portraiture and the landscapes. I was still learning to be a photographer for both things.

I stayed silent, thinking, glancing up at Ignazio as I wondered about my landscapes and the earlier importance of keeping them a secret. The idea of telling him made me nervous, but I couldn't see anymore why they should remain hidden.

"Ignazio," I said suddenly, looking up at him.

He smiled down at me, his eyes still bright in the dim evening light.

"Yes, Tamzin?"

I paused, thinking, feeling the expectant silence before I said what I felt should finally be revealed, here, in the midst of this realm of forestry.

"I'm a landscape photographer too."

There was a silence, in which I gazed boldly into the darkening green of the forest as I awaited an answer.

"I know."

I looked up at Ignazio in stunned surprise.

"What?"

He laughed softly.

"I know you're a landscape photographer."

"How!?"

"I was talking with Michele a few days ago, and he got a call from Mr. Masters, your principle from Harrison. Michele told me he wanted to know how you were doing, because he said you were reluctant to take the job working for us at first because you were mainly a landscape photographer."

I was quiet for a few moments, stunned, absorbing this information.

"Oh, geez, Mr. Masters!" I cried suddenly. "He's a great headmaster, but that guy's not a good one for secrets!"

Ignazio laughed, and I looked up at him curiously.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" I asked.

He smiled gently down at me.

"I was letting you keep it."

I looked forward at the forest, remembering the night I yelled I wouldn't tell him where I went because the information was mine.

"Thank you," I said incredulously after a moment, and he smiled at me.

"Sure, Tamzin. That _is_ the secret, right? That's why you were so tired before?"

"Yes."

"So why aren't you tired like that anymore?"

"I'm learning to balance the landscapes with being your photographer. I'm not doing it as often. For two weeks I even resolved not to go out at all."

"Wow, Tamzin. That's…you're pretty dedicated to us, aren't you?"

I smiled at him.

"See, I told you that you wouldn't be disappointed in me!"

He laughed suddenly and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him for a quick squeeze.

"And I'm certainly not disappointed in you, Tamzin. None of us are."

He let me go, and I smiled and thanked him.

"Do you want to see them?" I asked cautiously. "The landscapes? I have flash drives full back at the hotel!"

"Really!? I'd love to, Tamzin! But if you don't mind me asking, why are you letting me see them now?"

"I'm not completely sure. I guess I'm just beginning to realize I can be both a portrait photographer and a landscape photographer. I don't have to give it up anymore."

"You never had to give it up," Ignazio said after a moment.

"Maybe not. But I felt like it was being taken from me when I first started working for Il Volo."

We turned around and started back toward the hotel, and as the last light of day began to fade, the air began to get cooler and my shorts and T-shirt didn't help to keep me warm. I shivered, and smiled when Ignazio immediately shrugged out of his sweater and handed it to me.

"Thanks for telling me," Ignazio said after I had put in on and smiled gratefully up at him.

I shrugged.

"It doesn't have to be a secret anymore."

When we had left the forest and we were closer to the hotel, my many landscapes flickered through my mind as I wondered which ones to show Ignazio. I saw the warm sunsets, the cool mornings, lush green forests and gray stone walls, blue swirling waters and white sand. I remembered taking all of them, the rush that had overtaken me every single time I had submerged myself in the world with only my camera and a determination to capture its beauty.

I realized that I was sporting an excited smile, and when I saw Ignazio was watching me in amusement, I grabbed his hand and started to run, pulling him with me.

"Come on, Ignazio! Let's go!" I cried, sprinting with him alongside me.

He laughed and easily kept up with me as we ran back to the hotel, up the porch steps, and into my room. He watched as I ran to my camera bag and pulled out a handful of flash drives that I dumped onto the counter. I quickly sifted through them, reading the labels and pushing aside the wrong ones as I instructed Ignazio to get my laptop.

When he had powered it up and I had found the right flash drive, I sprinted over to the couch and pulled it from his hands, dropping down in front of the coffee table and pushing in the flash drive.

"Costa Rica," I explained, abandoning the laptop to him and sitting beside him on the couch, watching him.

He stared in disbelief at the forest I had photographed from a high tree, and the look on his face reflected the excited awe I had been in when I took the photos.

"Wow, Tamzin," he breathed, and looked up from the laptop.

I quickly reached out and clicked to the next image, directing his attention back to the screen. I watched him gaze at the images as he clicked through them, smiling in amazement. I savored the look of wonder on his face, feeling my own rush of excitement inside me as I remembered taking each one.

"These are beautiful, Tamzin!" he exclaimed, and I leapt up from the couch and returned to the counter, hurriedly fingering the flash drives and grabbing a few.

I ran back to the couch and pulled the flash drive from the laptop.

"Hey!" Ignazio said, looking up at me, but I immediately put in another one containing cityscapes. Ignazio quieted and looked up at me in amazement. I laughed a wild, gleeful laugh at the wonder on his face, and he smiled brightly at me and turned back to the pictures. I absorbed his amazement and awe, blissfully taking in his expression as he looked at the photos I had taken. I quickly exchanged the cityscapes for the very pictures I had taken that morning, the beautiful, mountainous photos of Rio de Janeiro in the morning light.

"This morning," I explained, and he smiled as I realized that I was trembling as I watched him admire the scenes and reciprocate the awe I had experienced at the time of their capture.

"They're beautiful, Tamzin! They're amazing! You're amazing! So this is what you do in the mornings…Wow…"

I smiled, still savoring the bright wonder in his eyes.

"Well," he said, turning toward me, "I approve."

I laughed, and he laughed with me.

"Got anymore?" he asked, and I reached out and pulled the flash drive from the laptop.

"Of course!" I said, gesturing to the flash drives scattered around the countertop. I jumped up and hurried to them, adding the one in my hand to the pile. I reached out for another one, but then paused as I observed my hand shaking in front of me. I felt the excitement trembling inside of me, and I suddenly felt that I didn't want to share everything that night. Tonight could be his first taste, his introduction to my landscapes, and I'd lay the night to rest before I overwhelmed both of us. I looked down at the counter, and then turned back to Ignazio and smiled gently. "But not now. It's late, and you should go to bed. I'll show you the rest later."

He pulled a dramatic pouting face, but then smiled.

"Okay, Tamzin. Sure."

He got up and came to me and gave me a hug, holding me so tightly I figured he could feel my excited trembling.

"Thank you," he said into my ear. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He released me and left my hotel room through the hall door, turning back to smile at me before he closed it.

I stayed standing at the counter, watching the closed door, and then I turned and looked at my laptop on the coffee table, the last picture on the drive on the screen, the outline of dark buildings against the early morning sky. I went to it and closed it, hugging it to my chest and bringing it back to the counter. I picked up the flash drives and then untied my red high-tops and threw them toward the back door. I locked the door to the room and went to the window to look out the way we had walked, smiling as I reflected on our conversation.

I yawned and suddenly felt very tired from the busy day. I went to the bedroom and listened to the quiet for a moment before pulling the covers back on the bed. As I slipped my bare feet under them, I realized that I was still wearing Ignazio's sweater. I moved to take it off, but then shrugged and decided to leave it on. It was comfortable, and it smelled good. I fell asleep still seeing and savoring the wonder on Ignazio's face as he viewed my landscapes.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

October for me was a time of learning how to balance, harboring both times of immense frustration and excitement. I was trying to adapt to being both a landscape and a portrait photographer, and I struggled as I tried to learn how to be both. Sometimes I felt distanced from the realm of passionate joy that my landscape endeavors held, and this made me feel resentful and consequently irritable. Ignazio was apt to pick up on my moods and respond to them. When I was agitated he tried to cheer me up, and he disregarded my sarcasm and attempts to distance myself from him. Sometimes he was able to restore a sense of merriment to me, if only for the little while he was able to play with me, laughing and joking and teasing.

Occasionally I was excited and cheerful, feeling confident that I had mastered my double-identity. These times were the most fun, and Ignazio was immediately ready to encourage me and assure me that I had indeed learned how to maintain both activities.

At times the monotony of my day-to-day job reverted me to the listlessness I had experienced the month before, and I couldn't help but observe Ignazio's seeming alarm at my returned despondency. He was especially perceptive and gentle with me during these times, and he spoke carefully and soothingly, continuously offering his presence to keep me from slipping into further melancholy.

Overall, October served as a period of teaching as I struggled to manage both of my photography endeavors. I had to be mostly dedicated to Il Volo, and only occasionally was I able to slip away and capture my landscapes. I had to be wary that I didn't leave too often, or I would exhaust myself and lose my balance, as I did a few times during the weeks.

Once I stole extra time to photograph Portugal, and ended up weary and agitated. Working that day was miserable and tiring, and upon returning from the boys' concert in a rental car, I fell asleep, which Ignazio encouraged by putting his arm gently around me and inviting me to rest my head on his shoulder.

When I had to go an especially long time without any landscape photography, I grew so frustrated that I started to cry on the balcony as I looked over the unattainable scene below. Ignazio caught me in tears, and shushed my embarrassment with an immediate, tight hug. Later he slipped a batch of fresh-baked cookies under the door, and I let him in to snack with me and view more of my past landscapes that he was constantly begging to see.

Ignazio was bright-eyed and playful, and he was the constant source of my comfort, though there were a few times when I observed his own weariness at the fast, wild life of incessant touring and frequent shows. His usual energetic presence beside me allowed me to pick up on his moments of subdued fatigue. This unnatural demeanor unnerved me, and I took my turns to brighten up and try to restore him to his normal merriment. He would always smile at me and feign interest in whatever I was saying, but the usual brightness was dimmed in these moments. He was always revived, however, by a night of sleep, and the next day would happily take his place again as my personal mood monitor.

Il Volo finally reached the end of the concerts in Latinoamerica, and we spent a few blissful days resting in Brazil, which gave me time to romp in the hills with my camera. Then we headed off to Canada, where we would spend the rest of October and the beginning of November touring.

One afternoon in early November when were in Montreal, I had settled down in my hotel suite to manage the Il Volo social media pages. I uploaded photos and organized others, and responded to comments from Il Volovers. I browsed fanart of the boys and noted some good ones to share for the other fans. I read comments on my previous photos and took notes on what the fans noticed and liked, or what they didn't like.

As I worked, I watched the sky outside of the huge floor-to-ceiling hotel windows slowly lose its blue and turn to a mild swirling gray. I kept my eye on it, admiring the way the harsh sunlight faded to a gentler glow, and then faded altogether. I paused and stared at the wall of windows, and then got up and moved away from the couch and stood in front of it, looking down at the city several stories below. There was no balcony, but I reached down and unlocked a part of the huge window, sliding it up and looking out. The city looked wonderful, cool and quietly inviting, and I couldn't resist leaning out of the window and inhaling the dangerously cold November air. I shivered in the brisk chill and was thankful for the cozy warmth of the hotel, but as I gazed down at the landscape before me, I turned and saw my camera beckoning and decided to forgo the comfort.

Excitement swelling in my chest, I pulled the window down and locked it, then hurried away and grabbed my coat from the peg beside the door. I pulled it on and unlocked the door, but in my hurried frenzy, I realized that I had forgotten my shoes. I looked down at my bare feet and laughed, and then turned and dashed back to the window, where I sat down beside it and started to pull on my shoes. As I tightened the laces while watching the city in gleeful anticipation, there was a knock on the door.

"Tamzin?" Ignazio called, and I smiled at the happy cadence of his voice, turning my head toward the door.

"It's open!" I called, already sounded breathless with joy.

I turned back to tightening my shoes and glanced up when Ignazio opened the door and smiled at me.

"The boys and I are going to the lobby to get something to eat and find something to do. Care to come with us?"

"No, thanks," I said, as I deemed the laces tight enough and leapt to my feet.

Ignazio watched as I went to get my camera and swiped the room key from the counter.

"You're not going out, are you?" he asked.

"Of course I am! It looks so cool outside! I can't wait to get at it!"

"Tamzin…" he said warningly, eyeing me as I pocketed the keys and then went to the laptop and shut it down.

"What?" I asked, glancing up at him and seeing the uncertain expression on his face.

"You can't go out today."

"What? Of course I can."

I shot him a quizzical look, and he shook his head.

"Oh, no, Tamzin. There's about to be a big storm. Thunder, lightning, the works. That's why Michele moved the rehearsal to this morning instead of this evening. You can't go out now."

"Well, I'm going to."

I stood up straight and put my hands on my hips, raising an eyebrow and daring him to challenge me.

He shook his head.

"Too dangerous. Stay inside."

"No."

I slung the camera around my shoulder and then strode up to the door. Ignazio immediately blocked the doorway.

"Excuse me."

He shook his head.

"Excuse me!" I said louder, and moved forward, but he folded his arms over his chest and refused to budge.

"Move!" I cried in frustration, and pushed at him.

"Tamzin, if you go out you'll get caught up in this huge storm! It's too dangerous!"

"I'll be quick! I'll be back before the rain even starts!"

"Tamzin, we both know that's not true. You're never that fast. Look at the sky! I give it twenty minutes!"

"Ignazio, move!"

"No. Stay."

"Ignazio!"

"Stay."

I sighed and shot him a fierce glare, then folded my arms tightly over my chest, nearly trembling in anger.

"Fine."

"You'll stay?"

"I'll stay," I growled, and Ignazio nodded in approval and gave me a bright smile, which I refused to return. He stayed in the doorway, and I slowly shrugged out of my coat and hung it beside the door.

He stepped back and cautiously closed the door.

I stood silently in front of the closed door, counting angrily under my breath. I stayed poised in front of the doorway as I counted, slowly whispering each number.

"_Eighteen…Nineteen_…Twenty!"

I snatched my coat off the peg and yanked it on as I shoved open the door and leaped from the room. I began my determined sprint down the hall, eyeing the elevator, but only made it a few feet before there was a loud thundering behind me and a strong hand seized me around my middle and hoisted me into the air.

"Hey!" I yelled in anger, kicking wildly and throwing untargeted punches as Ignazio turned me and draped me easily over his shoulder. "Put me down! What do you think you're doing!?"

"Keeping you safe!" Ignazio said as he pulled me back into the hotel room, stumbling as he bore my hammering fists and wildly kicking feet. I squirmed and grabbed a handful of his silky dark hair in my fist and yanked, and he yelled.

"Tamzin, let go!" he cried in pain, and I only yanked harder until he hurriedly set me down back in my hotel room and kicked the door shut behind him with a bang, reaching up to grasp his hair. "Geez, Tamzin, hands off the hair!"

I yelled and rushed forward, desperately trying to launch myself past him, but he jumped in front of me and grabbed my shoulders, stopping me. I pulled away, reached back, and then struck my hand across his face, feeling the harsh sting on my own palm.

"Tamzin, stop it!" he cried, grabbing my arms and forcing me away from the door as I squirmed and tried to yank away.

"You'll damage the camera!" I yelled in frustration, and he reached out and pulled it from me, tossing it onto the couch.

"Don't touch my camera!" I yelled, drawing back my hand again, but he grabbed it and pushed down on me, wrestling me to the ground. I yanked back at the last moment before he could lay me down, and I went falling backwards, taking him with me. He caught himself before he could land on top of me, and stopped just above me, holding himself up and pinning me down simultaneously. He held down my arms, his face inches above mine. I struggled, but was unable to move.

"I'll scream!" I cried, furious.

"Go ahead!" he shouted, surprising me, "Then Piero and Gianluca will come and help me stop you!"

I glared at him, breathless and shaking in anger.

"Get off me!"

"No! Listen!"

"Get OOOFFFFFFFFF!"

"Tamzin, listen," he said, his voice quieting.

"No! Let me go!"

He quieted and didn't move, keeping me trapped below him.

I began to struggle again, kicking my legs and pushing at his arms to no avail.

"You're trying to change me!" I yelled.

"I'm trying to protect you!"

I relented in my struggling and looked at the dangerously inviting gray sky outside the windows across the room. My determination to get past Ignazio shifted into the realization that I wasn't going to be able to get away from him. My fury faded as longing filled my chest for the earth outside of the hotel, and I gazed sadly out at the swirling gray sky. I sighed and looked forlornly up at Ignazio.

"Tamzin," he said, his face softening as he looked down at me. "Don't look at me like that."

I held the gaze and he sighed before looking determinedly at me.

"Tamzin, I just don't want you to get hurt. I'm not going to let you go out and get caught in this freezing storm and get lost, or hurt, or sick. I don't want to have to go out and find you cold and shivering in the street, and I don't ever want you in trouble because I was too stupid to stop you. I know how ambitious and wild you can be, and I think you sometimes need to be redirected so you don't endanger yourself, like now."

I looked silently up at him, and then he asked, "Will you stay?"

I sighed.

"I'll stay," I said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"For real this time?"

"Yes, Ignazio! I'll stay! Geez, get off of me!"

"Good. Gosh, Tamzin, you hit hard!"

He released one arm and reached up to massage the stinging red handprint I had left on his cheek, wincing.

He let go of my other arm and got off of me, getting up from the ground and then reaching down to help me up.

I glared at him and got up myself.

He shook his head and looked at himself in the hotel mirror, gingerly fingering his cheek.

"I'm going to have a scar!" he said in playful disbelief as he turned his head and observed the fading red mark.

"You'll be fine," I said grudgingly, folding my arms in defiance.

He turned and looked at me, and offered me a small smile that I didn't return.

"I'm going the lobby," he said, moving past me to the door. "That means the boys and I will be watching the front door. And don't even think about scaling the side of the building!"

He waited for me to smile, but when I didn't, he shook his head and closed the door behind him.

I stayed silently watching the closed door for the second time, but this time I didn't begin my counting. Instead, I turned and looked out the window, scowling at the sky and the city. I shrugged out of my coat and dropped it onto the couch, going to the windows and sinking down to sit cross-legged in front of them. I pulled off my shoes and threw them aside, then crossed my arms and stared forlornly out at the landscape before me, listening to the silence of the hotel room.

I waited silently, watching the hands on the clock move and counting the minutes as I observed the sky darkening further, shifting from mild to menacing. Nineteen minutes after Ignazio left, the rain started. I pulled my knees to my chest and lay my chin on top of them, listening to the quickening patter of the rain against the window.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I watched the rain in silence for a long while, seeing the sky grow drastically darker until it looked like nighttime outside the window. The rain came down faster and faster until it was a loud torrent, and I watched the lightning pierce the sky right in front of the windows and heard the thunder roar. I crawled closer to the window and looked down at the streets far below beginning to flood.

When I grew tired of listening to the rain, I got my phone and sat cross-legged in front of the window. I put on Il Volo's "We Are Love" album and listened sitting in front of the window, watching the downpour and thinking, as if in a trance.

When the evening came, I ate dinner in front of the window, and I couldn't help thinking that if I had gone out, I would have definitely been caught in this deadly storm. I would have gone too far away from the hotel to return quickly, and the freezing rain would have chilled me to the bone. I could barely see through the outside darkness, and I wondered if I would have been able to find my way back in the blackness.

I remained in front of the window for the duration of a second Il Volo album, feeling subdued and reflective, my earlier excitement and anger long since evaporated.

When the album ended and the music faded to silence, I was surprised at the roar of rain outside the window. It was dangerously loud, and as the thunder exploded, I jumped and pulled out the earbuds.

I stared out at the threatening storm with wide eyes at its intensity, and then pulled up my knees to my chest and settled my chin down on them.

Another particularly loud clap of thunder made me jump, and I was plunged into darkness for a second when the power in the room flickered. I sat up, my subdued trance momentarily faltering, and looked up warily at the ceiling light, sincerely hoping it wouldn't go out. I didn't like darkness, because I hated not being able to see what was in front of me, being surrounded by the unknown.

The lights stayed on, and I relaxed somewhat and watched the sheets of rain moving past the window.

The lights flickered again, and I had just enough time to utter a quick plea for the lights to stay on before a clap of thunder plunged me into total darkness.

I froze, lost in the blackness as I waited for my eyes to adjust. Gradually my vision returned and I could vaguely see the torrents of rain in what little light the evening allotted.

I sat frozen before the window, staring outside, and then slowly turned and looked into the blackness of the hotel room. I cautiously rose from the floor and stood in the midst of the darkness. I turned back to the window and looked at the storm, and a flash of lightening momentarily lit up the room. When the light disappeared, I turned and moved quickly to the door, reaching out for it as I stumbled through the room.

When I was right in front of it, it flew open and a tall, black figure loomed over me, face alight with flickering orange brightness.

"Ah!" I cried, stumbling immediately backwards and tripping over the laptop charger, going sprawling on the hard floor with a thud and a gasp. I looked up in fear at the figure towering above me, and then realized it was only Ignazio, standing in the doorway holding a candle with a surprised, concerned expression on his face.

"Tamzin, are you alright!?"

I untangled myself from the laptop wire and got up from the floor as Ignazio moved close and took my elbow in gentle concern.

"I'm okay," I said, looking up at him as I calmed. "You just scared me at first."

"Here," he said, handing me the candle. "I've got more in my room."

He left, leaving the door open, and I turned and looked out the window, then slowly moved close to it and sat in front of it, setting the candle down on the low sill and pressing my hand against the glass to feel the deep chill of the November air.

I watched the brilliant flickering light for a moment, and then scooted backwards and sat in my earlier spot, pulling my knees to my chest and wishing the power would return.

Ignazio returned after a moment with an armful of more candles and a box of matches, which he set on the floor.

"They were free in the lobby," he explained as he artfully made a line of candles on the windowsill next to the first. "The hotel generator is broken. The manager told us they had a guy working on it all day just in case the power went out, but he couldn't fix it."

I quietly watched him crouching beside the window, and he looked up from the sill and smiled at me, shadows flickering across his face. I kept my chin on my knees, and he turned to the matchbox and picked it up. He struck a match and then lowered the brilliantly dancing flame into each candle, lighting them one at a time. Then he shook the match and slid it back into the box.

He looked at me huddled in front of the window and studied me for a moment as I surveyed his broad frame silhouetted against the window.

"Are you sulking?" he asked after a moment, and I shook my head.

"No… Just thinking."

He nodded and turned to look out the window at the pouring rain. I looked over his silky hair, dark eyes, and sweet face, and then followed his gaze to the outside chaos.

"You were right."

He looked back at me, surprised, and then smiled gently at me. I took in the smile and then averted my eyes, looking back at the storm.

He took a candle and stood up, and I peered up at him and then raised my head and turned as I watched him leave my hotel room. I stayed watching the black doorway for a moment, and then turned somberly back toward the window and lowered my knees, returning to sitting cross-legged.

I watched the flickering bright orange light in front of me, scattering the darkness as the multiple brilliant little flames danced and shivered from being so close to the chilled window.

I heard a shuffling behind me, and Ignazio appeared beside me holding a folded blanket in his hands. He smiled at me and sat down beside me, cross-legged, and shook out the blanket.

"Here," he said, reaching out to lay a side over my shoulders, draping it around both of us. "Now that the power's out, it's going to get cold very quickly."

I hesitated, but at the promise of warmth I accepted it and pulled it more tightly around myself, then looked up at him and smiled softly. He returned my smile, and I looked at the candles flickering in front of us.

"Thank you for the light," I said, and he nodded.

"You're welcome. Candlelight is beautiful, isn't it?" he remarked. I looked up at him and saw the tiny flames reflecting in his eyes.

"I don't like the dark."

"Then that must make it even more beautiful."

He smiled at me, and I smiled back and looked past the candles to the rain.

"You were right," I admitted softly again. "I waited to see when the rain would start after you left. You predicted within twenty minutes, and you were right."

"How long was it?"

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen…" he repeated, nodding, then he shrugged. "Yeah, I'd say I'm pretty physic."

I turned and stared at him, and then laughed when I saw the playful look in his eyes, and he laughed with me. I shook my head, and then slowly regained my seriousness as I watched the rain.

"If I had gone out, I would have gotten caught in that."

Ignazio watched me quietly, and I turned and looked at him sheepishly.

"Um…thanks, Ignazio. For stopping me."

"Sure, Tamzin."

"I guess I'm still learning the balance, you know? Learning how to monitor when I can go out and when I can't."

"I understand. I'm watching you learn how to balance it, Tamzin. I think you're doing a good job. Sometimes you just need a little encouragement."

He smiled at me and leaned toward me to jostle me gently.

"And sometimes you need to be stopped altogether."

I smiled.

"Yeah…I guess so. It's so frustrating sometimes. I used to be able to take landscapes all the time, but now I have to split the time between the portraits. But I also get so many new places to photograph with the touring."

"So would you say you enjoy working for us now? Or is it still boring?"

I looked up at him.

"You can tell me," he said earnestly.

"Sometimes I like it. Sometimes I just want more. I feel like it's too routine. Go with you, take pictures, upload pictures. It just feels insignificant."

Ignazio turned to me, surprised.

"Your job isn't insignificant, Tamzin. You're very important to the team. You know that, right?"

I shrugged, knowing he was just trying to make me feel better.

"Sure, Ignazio. There's just not much ambition in it."

A huge clap of thunder made me jump, and I sat up straight and watched the rain. We were quiet for several minutes, watching the storm together.

I quickly began to feel the room getting colder, and I got chills and pulled the blanket tightly around me.

"It's cold…" I said softly, and Ignazio nodded.

"No heat anymore. Novembers in Canada can be pretty brutal."

I shivered and huddled under the blanket, trying to get warm.

"The photoshoot in Chile was brilliant," I thought aloud. "The thought of it still makes me happy. I keep hoping I'll get that excited feeling in the day-to-day work."

He nodded.

"I hope you do, too. I love seeing that spark in your eye when you get excited. That ambitious, fiery look you have when you come in and out of your outdoor photography sessions, and that you had during the Christmas photoshoot."

We fell quiet again, with me watching the candles and Ignazio observing me.

Finding I was unable to get warm, I shivered again and peered up at Ignazio. I hesitated, then moved closer to him, and he pulled the blanket tightly around the both of us and moved his arm around me, holding me gently to him. He was warm and comfortable, and I began to feel sleepy as the chill of the evening was banished from our blanket. I yawned and blinked sleepily, and Ignazio pulled me gently toward him, encouraging me to lay my head on his shoulder. I did, and his sweater was soft against my cheek. I contentedly closed my eyes, feeling his gentle arm around me under the warmth of the blanket.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "Tamzin, what do you want?"

I absorbed the question for a moment, and then lifted my head in confusion and shot him a quizzical look.

"Ignazio, what kind of a question is that?"

He turned his head to me, and his face showed sincerity.

"I mean overall. What is it you want?"

"Huh? What do _you_ want?"

"Well…" he thought about it for a moment, gazing at the candles reflectively. "I guess I want a lot of things, but the main thing I want for now is an American Award. A Grammy, or an American Music Award or something."

"An American award?"

He nodded.

"Why America?"

"Because America is this amazing, stubborn, brilliant power, and I'd love to capture its heart."

I stared at him in incredulity, and he continued after a moment when he observed my expression.

"Plenty of people in the U.S. listen to our style of music, but people mostly listen to pop hits and rock hits… the stuff on the radio. We're a group of operatic pop singers, and we're trying to bring this kind of music into more peoples' lives. We're also kind of introducing this music to the young generation, and we want them to fall in love with it. I want us to be recognized by the people of America! I want our music to be accepted and loved the way we love it, and I want people to see the beauty in it that we do!"

"American recognition…" I murmured, and he nodded.

"American recognition."

"So why are we in Canada then?"

"Tamzin, we can't focus only on the U.S. The other countries need some love too, and we can't abandon the places that have been so crucial to our career."

I laid my head on his shoulder again, and he readjusted the blanket around me again, trying to keep me warm.

"I guess…" I said, thinking, "With my photography, I want to capture the beauty of things within the world. I want to capture it and present it to people, draw them into the realm of beauty."

"That makes sense," Ignazio said, and I closed my eyes and listened to the cadence of his voice. "You're good at it too, Tamzin. Your landscapes are perfect. They must be, with all the energy and passion you pour into them."

"Yeah," I said, smiling, and then I stopped and thought about continuing. "I want to be a landscape photographer for National Geographic," I finally said, and he looked surprised, and then nodded.

"A landscape photographer for National Geographic."

"Yes! I've dreamed of becoming that ever since I started Harrison when I was eleven. I just love that idea of being able to explore and go out to capture the beauty inside the world whenever I want, as my job!"

"Wow," he said softly, and I smiled at the idea of it. "You say it with such conviction. I hope you get the opportunity to get that dream one day."

"Me too."

"You'd be great at it."

"Mmm-hmm…" I murmured softly, closing my eyes again and huddling close to Ignazio.

"Are you tired, Tamzin?" he asked, rubbing my arm gently with his hand under the blanket.

"Yes. Must be from the wrestling."

He laughed brightly, and I lifted my head and smiled at him.

Then I remembered the slap I had given him earlier, and I took my hand from the blanket and reached up to touch his face, gingerly turning his head and looking at the cheek.

"No scars. I was only kidding about that before."

I moved my hand and rested it on his shoulder, and he turned his head to me and smiled.

"I'm sorry I slapped you, Ignazio."

Looking up into his gentle eyes, with his arm around me and the candlelight flickering in front of us, I felt penitent and mean for striking him earlier, and I reached up and turned his face to the side again.

"I'm sorry," I said again, and I cautiously leaned forward and gingerly kissed the smooth skin of his cheek.

He turned toward me and smiled brightly, and I laid my head on his shoulder again and watched the rain.

"Tamzin?"

"Hmm?"

"Look at me."

I raised my head from his shoulder and looked up at him, and he untangled his other hand from the blanket, the one not around me, and reached for my face.

He gently tilted my chin up toward him and gazed at me for a moment before he leaned toward me. I tensed up, but when his lips met mine I closed my eyes, taking in the gentle tenderness of it. He lingered there for a moment, his arm holding me close, and then he pulled back, ending the gentle kiss, and watched for my reaction.

Instead of giving him the smile he was probably anticipating, I reached up and excitedly intertwined my fingers with his hair, suddenly desiring to reciprocate. I brought him back, taking his lips back to mine, and then I pulled back and gave him the excited smile he was watching for. He smiled brightly with me, and I smoothed the back of his hair with my hand and grinned.

"And no more hair pulling, either. I promise."

He burst into laugher, his eyes shining with delight, and I laughed with him.

Then he got me to lay my head back on his shoulder, and after a moment he spotted my forgotten phone in the corner of the room.

"What were you listening to?"

"You."

"Really?"

"Of course."

He was quiet for a moment, and then he asked my favorite Il Volo song.

"I'm not sure. I really like all of the songs…but I especially like Questo Amore."

I closed my eyes, and after a moment opened them and peered up at him as he began to sing.

_"Guardi con quell'aria capricciosa…I tuoi occhi ruberei…"_

I closed my eyes, listening to the warm cadence of his voice and feeling his shoulder gently rise and fall with his breath. His voice overpowered the slowing drumming of the rain, and it was all I could hear, all I could focus on…

_"E la luna ti offrirei…Una vita in due io e te…"_

I was warm and comfortable in his gentle grasp, and the warm glow of the candlelight grew distant as I slowly slipped into sleep listening to his voice…

There was a loud beep, and bright light flooded the room.

I opened my eyes and then quickly turned my face into Ignazio's shoulder, away from the overpowering brightness.

I felt him move and readjust his arms around me, and I felt cold for an instant before I was gently lifted from the ground and cradled in Ignazio's warm arms. Too tired to open my eyes, I felt him carrying me and saw the brightness before my lids lesson. I felt myself being lowered as Ignazio laid me on the bed in the darkened hotel bedroom. He moved away, and then a moment later returned with the blanket, which he draped over me. The last thing I felt before I slipped back into sleep was a tender good-night kiss, and then I heard the bedroom door closing.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I sat in one of the front seats of the circular theatre, working on my laptop as I watched the boys out of the corner of my eye. They stood on a huge circular stage that would spin slowly during the concert, a strange idea that I regarded with certain distaste. Because of the unusual nature of this Canadian theatre, the boys had to figure out how to arrange their show in the best possible manner, and Michele directed them and tried to calm their silliness. Ignazio was especially the instigator of their shenanigans, as he sang funny music and got Piero to dance with him, making Gianluca laugh and join in.

I raised my eyebrows and then rolled my eyes when Ignazio turned to me for approval, and then I returned to the laptop, propping up my red high-topped shoes on the speaker in front of me. I scrolled through the Il Volo website, making sure the new photos I had uploaded had come out nicely as I sipped the root beer a stagehand had gotten me.

Intent on my screen, I jumped when Ignazio dropped into the theatre seat beside me. I turned my head to him, taking in his bright smile, and then returned to the laptop.

"Good morning, Tamzin," he said, still smiling at me, and I looked up at him and then at Piero and Gianluca trying to figure out where to stand. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling animosity toward the stage," I remarked, and he laughed.

"The stage? It's different isn't it?"

"No, it's impractical! If I'm paying for a concert, I don't want the singers to be rotating in circles! I want to see all of you the whole time! If I'm watching you, I don't want to see the back of you, even if there is another singer who's facing me! It's a very off-putting arrangement, and I think Il Volo should have picked another theatre to sing in! And another thing, what about the singers!? What if they get dizzy!? It's ridiculous!"

I noticed Ignazio watching me in amusement, with raised eyebrows and a suppressed smile.

"What?" I demanded, and he smiled.

"Hmm…Feisty. Not feeling like working today, huh Tamzin?"

I settled back in my chair and raised my eyebrows at him, and he mirrored me playfully.

"I'm just sick of Canada," I sighed, moving my feet as Gianluca jumped down from the stage and took hold of the speaker.

"Me too, Tamzin," Gianluca remarked, nodding in agreement before he lugged away the speaker.

"Then I have some good news for you," Ignazio said to me, and I realized what he was referring to before he said it.

"Oh, right!" I exclaimed, brightening and sitting up straight. "We're going back to the U.S. soon, aren't we!?"

He nodded eagerly at my brightened demeanor.

"Yes, to promote and then begin the American Christmas concerts!"

"Brilliant!" I said, sharing his smile. "I can't wait! I miss the U.S."

"Soon, Tamzin…We still have a few more Canadian concerts to do, and then we'll be able to go to the U.S. We'll start on the Christmas concerts after some promotions, and after the dinner party at the Record Company, of course."

"Dinner party? What dinner party?"

"Michele didn't mention it yet? The banquet celebrating the release of the Christmas CD?"

"He might have. I probably wasn't listening. Who's going to this banquet?"

"Everyone who helped to make the album possible. Our producers, teachers, people we've sung with, etcetera…basically everyone included in the thank-you credits on the Christmas CD."

"Do I have to take pictures?"

"Michele says no. It's just a private celebration. Our cell phone pics will suffice," he said, smiling playfully.

"Sounds fun," I said absentmindedly, watching the activity on the stage, and he nodded.

"It will be! I can't wait!"

"Christmas concerts will be fun too…" I mused, as I watched Piero playing with the microphone stand, and he nodded. "I can take some festive photos, I guess. That'll be interesting."

"I love Christmas music," Ignazio said. "Americans do also. Do you know how many Christmas albums have been successful? For CDs that most people only listen to one time a year, the sales numbers are sky-high!"

"Good!" I said, "That means the album might help you get nominated for an award, won't it?"

"It might," he said, shrugging.

"I'm serious, think about it," I said, closing the laptop and adjusting my position in the chair so I was facing him, "People love the Christmas album and buy millions of copies, which is the gateway for all these people into the other Il Volo albums. Just as all these people are making their journeys into the realm of Il Volo, February, the month of the Grammies rolls around, and the American population has the collective idea that Il Volo should receive one!"

Ignazio smiled at me.

"Sure, Tamzin."

"It could happen! Wouldn't that be brilliant!?"

"It could. It'd be great."

I studied his face and decided that he looked hopeful, but also doubtful at the same time. I re-opened the laptop balanced on my thighs and waited for the Il Volo webpage to come up.

"What are you doing?" Ignazio asked, leaning toward me and looking at the page.

I rested my chin on my fist on the arm of the theatre seat and peered up at him, my face close to his.

"Checking the pictures I uploaded. What do you think?"

I went to the new gallery I had established and scrolled through the pictures for him.

"Excellent!" he said, nodding in approval. "They're great, Tamzin! I love it!"

I looked up at him and met his admiring gaze, picking up my head from my fist.

"You're so good, Tamzin," he observed, and I smiled and turned back to the laptop.

"You know," I said, "Il Volo only has one T-shirt for sale, and no posters or bracelets."

"Okay…Should we have those?"

"I think yes. Especially T-shirts. People love T-shirts, and it's free advertising! And hey, with the Il Volo boom that's about to go down, you need to get some more merch out there!"

"Merch?"

"Merchandise! Come on, follow me here, Ignazio!"

He laughed and leaned back in his chair, just as Piero approached us.

"Come on, Ignazio," he called, hopping down from the stage, "We're going to practice some."

Ignazio nodded and stood, turning to me and reaching down his hand as Piero turned and jumped back onto the stage.

"What?" I asked, eyeing his outstretched hand.

"Come on stage with me?"

"What? No."

"Please? It'll be fun!"

"Go practice," I sighed, waving him away, and he laughed softly and came closer, bending down close to me.

I looked up in surprise and then froze as he leaned forward and kissed my cheek before I could react. Then he turned and went to the stage, and I watched him go as I felt the remaining touch of his lips on my skin.

A few days later, as I lay on my belly on the couch of the hotel room I was staying in, there was a knock on the door and Barbara called my name.

"I think it's open, Barbara!" I called, and she came in, smiling eagerly at me.

"Hi, Tamzin! So…I know it's getting close to the Christmas CD banquet and you probably already have a dress, but…"

"What?" I asked, looking up from the laptop. "Why would I have a dress?"

"Didn't you go shopping yet?"

I laughed.

"Right, Barbara, like _I_ go shopping."

"So…you don't have an outfit yet?"

"Outfit for what!? What are you talking about!? What is this mysterious outfit you're talking about! Please enlighten me!"

She rolled her eyes at my sarcasm, but then her expression shifted to confusion when I continued to stare blankly at her.

"Didn't anyone tell you about the banquet?"

"The banquet? Yeah, Ignazio told me."

"Okay, good. So do you know what you're wearing to it yet?"

"Oh! Barbara, Michele says I don't have to take pictures."

"I know."

"Okay…" I looked confusedly at her for a moment, then returned my attention to the screen in front of me.

"But you're still going, aren't you?"

"What? No I'm not."

"Yes you are, Tamzin! Why wouldn't you be going?"

"Why _would_ I be going!?"

"Because it's celebrating the release of the Il Volo Christmas album and you're part of the Il Volo team."

"I'm just the photographer, Barbara! I'll just stay in the hotel and organize my newest landscapes or something."

I returned my attention to the laptop screen, and Barbara stood in front of the door, watching me curiously.

"Okay, well… before you _officially _say no…"

"I already said no!"

"…I saw this amazing dress-"

"No!"

I looked indignantly up at her, eyebrows raised at her inability to comprehend my declaration, and locked my gaze with hers for a moment before shaking my head dismissively and returning to the laptop.

"Tamzin, you're going."

"What?"

"As your honorary aunt while we're on the road, I'm telling you that you have to go to the banquet."

"What!? Hey!"

I sat up indignantly on the sofa, and she held up her hands.

"It's not just me, Tamzin. Michele expects you to go, and he's in charge here! And the boys all think you're going, too. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?"

"Barbara!" I whined.

"Tamzin!" she whined back teasingly, and I frowned and crossed my arms.

"If I'm not taking pictures, then what am I going to do?"

"Enjoy yourself! Dance with the boys! Meet new people! Enjoy the food! Come on, Tamzin, it'll be fun."

I sighed and shot her a glare before flopping down onto my stomach and glaring fiercely at the laptop.

"So are you going now?"

"Well, I don't seem to have a choice, do I!?"

She laughed, and I looked up and shot her a glare that she quickly dismissed with her approving smile.

"So, I saw this beautiful dress in a shop just a few streets away…I think it'll be perfect on you!"

"I have to wear a dress?"

"Of course!"

"Where am I going to get a dress?"

She sighed.

"Tamzin…that's what I came to tell you. I found you a dress. Why don't you come with me and we'll go see it."

I groaned.

"I am _not_ going dress shopping!"

"Fine. I'll go buy this one for you."

"What if I don't like it?"

"You will."

"What if it's not my style?"

"It will be."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just know."

We were quiet, and I waited for her to leave.

"If I buy it, will you try it on?"

"Fine! Whatever! Just go!"

The door closed, and then opened again a moment later.

"I wear a FIVE!" I called in exasperation, and the door closed again.

"Tamzin! I'm back."

I got up from the table and went to the door, opening it and letting Barbara in, stepping aside as she carried in the long cloth covering on a hanger.

I shut the door behind her and watched as she went to the table and laid it on top.

She turned to me eagerly and clasped her hands together.

"Come and see."

I moved forward and went to stand beside her at the table, looking down at the dark cloth concealing the dress.

"Open it."

I looked up at her, and the content gentleness of her voice kept me quiet and obedient. I looked down and reached out to the zipper, taking the cold metal in my fingers and pulling it down.

The fabric separated and immediately revealed a bold red fabric, bright and rich in its color. It demanded my attention and captured my breath in its effortless brilliance.

"Oh…" I said softly, quickly pulling the zipper down the rest of the way and taking in the magnificence of the dress.

It was a strapless gown with a wrapped middle that flowed into a long cascade of shining red fabric.

I reached out and touched it, and the material felt like soft, perfect silk in my fingers.

"Oh my gosh…" I sighed, "It's…brilliant."

I looked up from it and saw her eyeing me in satisfaction.

"See? I told you you'd like it. Go and try it on."

"Now?"

"Of course!"

I took up the dress and went to the bedroom, shutting the door and laying it out carefully on the bed.

I pulled off my T-shirt and shorts and tossed them aside, trading them for the lavishness of the gown.

I slipped into it and felt the silk against my skin, turning around quickly to feel it move with me.

I wondered if I would be lost in the grandeur of the gown, and looked down critically at the dress. I left the bedroom and strode to the mirror on the wall, doubtful and determined to rid myself of it if it so much as stole from the color in my cheeks.

Instead, I was left staring in astonishment at myself. I looked myself up and down and turned to see the gentle curve of the fabric over my hips. My hair looked more golden, my eyes a richer blue, my skin more fair. It was as if the gown was tailored with the intention of fitting only me, and I stared in evident surprise that I actually liked the dress Barbara had forced me to put on.

Barbara appeared beside me and looked me up and down in approval.

"See Tamzin, I told you it'd be perfect on you."

I nodded, still absorbed in my reflection, and she looked down at my bare foot poking out from under the brilliant red cascade.

"Do you have shoes?"

I smiled.

"Yes. I have shoes."

"Great! Tamzin, I can't wait to see you wear this at the banquet!"

I smiled sheepishly at Barbara.

"Thank you, Barbara."

She nodded in satisfaction.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Finally we finished with the Canadian concerts and re-entered the U.S. I was glad to be back, and we spent our first night back at the same condos in Los Angeles we had been staying in when I first met the boys.

The following night was the banquet, and I let Barbara into my condo to pin up my hair for me. She had insisted on doing it, and I sat in front of the bathroom mirror and watched her in a handheld mirror. I squirmed and protested, and she constantly had to force me to be still, but when she finished I had to admit it was as beautiful as she said it would be. Then she left and I changed out of my T-shirt and jeans and got out the brilliant red dress. I held it in front of me in the mirror, admiring it for a few moments before I slipped it on and let the perfect rich red silk fall around me. I stood in front of the mirror for a long while in astonishment, turning and eyeing every part of the gown. I left the mirror to put on my shoes, and then returned to it. I smiled at my appearance, and then immediately heard a knock on the condo door.

"It's open!" I called, and Ignazio opened the door and came in alone, dressed up in his black suit, smart black shoes, and red bow-tie, with his hair looking silky and his eyes glittering with eager excitement. He closed the door and then turned to me, and froze on the spot. His smile faded, and he stared at me, his eyes widening slightly.

"What?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

He watched me in awe and smiled slowly, gazing so sweetly at me that I dropped my arms and waited for him to speak.

"Wow…" he breathed, "You look…incredible." I smiled and looked down at the shining red cloth and then at my face in the mirror, seeing Ignazio smiling at me from behind in the reflection.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, and I turned back to him and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so. It feels weird to be without my camera, though."

"You'll adjust. We'll have so much fun tonight!"

He came close to me and held out his arm, which I dismissed and instead reached up to adjust his crooked bow tie.

"Now!" I said, and then decided it'd be appropriate to take his arm.

As he led me out the door and down the steps, he looked at me and smiled.

"Tamzin, will you dance with me tonight?"

I shrugged.

"I guess so."

"Is that a promise?"

"Sure, I guess so."

He observed me for moment, then smiled.

"You're not wearing heels, are you? You're the same height."

"Nah, I'm not really into heels. I prefer these."

I lifted up the bottom of the dress and extended my red high-topped foot, and Ignazio looked down at it and then began to laugh. He pulled his arm closer to himself, pulling me closer with it. He leaned forward as if to kiss my cheek, but I tensed up with surprise and looked away.

We went to find the rest of our group, and Barbara was ecstatic to see me in the dress, though she chastised me for the shoes when she noticed them. She demanded that the boys and I take a picture together, which we did, but it made me feel funny again that I didn't have my camera. As we all went to the car and got in, I kept having the urge to locate the camera, but then I realized that it was back at the condo.

As we approached the building, I peered up at it in astonishment from the car window. It rose high into the chilly evening sky and loomed over the little car, and I imagined all the people inside awaiting the entrance of the boys. I looked over at the three of them, and Ignazio caught me eye and smiled. I turned back to the window and watched people getting out their cars and going inside in their suits and party dresses.

We went around the back of the building so the boys could go up onto the stage and address everyone to begin the party.

"Come on," Ignazio said backstage, offering me his arm, "Let's go make our grand entrance."

I shook my head quickly and stepped back.

"What's the matter, Tamzin?"

I looked reluctantly at the stage and shook my head.

"Go make your entrance."

"Come with us. We're all going out, Michele and Barbara included."

"Oh… Okay."

He offered me his arm again, but I refused to take it, deciding instead to stand beside Barbara on the side of them.

They got their microphones, and after a quick moment of discussion, the six of us all walked out onto the stage. There was a roar of applause and whistling, and I stared dumbfounded at the large number of people attending the banquet. This was a bigger celebration than I had thought, and I had the impulse to reach for my camera.

The boys smiled and waved at the crowd, then addressed them, thanking them for coming and speaking briefly about their recent touring and about the Christmas CD.

I panned the crowd, not paying much attention anymore to the boys, until I heard Piero say, "We'd also like to introduce the newest member of the Il Volo team…"

My head snapped up and I turned my gaze to him as if to ask "_What are you doing_!?", but he just smiled eagerly at me out of the corner of his eye.

"A _brilliant,_ ambitious person, an attendee of Harrison Academy and our new photographer…" Ignazio continued slowly and dramatically.

"Tamzin Montgomery!" Gianluca finished with a flourish, and Ignazio stepped away from them to take my hand and pull me to the center of the stage. I stood frozen above the cheering crowd, watching them with uncomfortable surprise as they all stared back at me and applauded.

"Smile, Tamzin," Ignazio whispered into my ear, laughing softly, and I offered the crowd a nervous grin and then stepped away from the middle of the stage. I returned to my place beside Barbara, trying to stop myself from blushing as I felt the crowd's eyes still on me.

The boys thanked everyone again, and then they went backstage to pick up the microphones. Barbara and Michele went down the stage's steps, and I followed the boys backstage.

"Boys!" I shouted, and they all turned to me, grinning. "What's the big idea!?"

"We just wanted to introduce you," Ignazio said, smiling, and I gave him a fierce glare, which made Gianluca laugh.

"We just wanted to show you off," Gianluca said, setting down his microphone, "Let everyone know we've got a Harrison girl!"

"You couldn't have told me about it!?"

"Aw, that would kill that surprise," Piero said, laughing, and I turned my glare on him until Ignazio took my arm and said it was time to go out and mingle.

"But I don't know anyone."

"That's why you can come with me. I'll introduce you to people."

"Oh. Okay."

I shied away from his hand on my arm and went to the curtain, peering out at all the unfamiliar guests. Ignazio watched me for a moment, observing me.

"What?" I asked, noticing his intent supervision.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course."

"Okay. You just seemed a little sad."

"Let's go now."

I followed Ignazio back onto the stage and down the side steps, where we were immediately surrounded by a group of people that Ignazio hugged and spoke with in rapid Italian.

"Our producers and set designers," he told me in English, then introduced me to each person, telling me each of their roles in Il Volo with gracious comments about every person. I recognized two of them, Gatica and Renis, from the Christmas album photoshoot in Chile.

When they left us, Ignazio leaned toward me and pointed out a woman a few feet in front of us.

"Do you know who that is?"

I gawked at her.

"Is that…Barbara Streisand?"

"Yes! Barbara!" he called, and the woman turned. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she hurried over and took his face in her hands as he laughed.

"Oh, my Ignazio! Don't you look handsome!? I've missed you so much!"

Ignazio hugged her and spoke happily to her, and turned her attention to me. I sheepishly accepted her praise of my work on the CD cover, and after a moment Ignazio led me further into the crowd of people.

He greeted everyone who passed him as if they were all his best friends, and so many people hurried up to see him that I shrunk back from the excited crowd and amused myself by looking about the huge, lavishly decorated building and picking out Piero and Gianluca in the crowd. There were Il Volo pictures and CDs everywhere, and rich red curtains on the walls with Christmas decorations scattered throughout the building. It was deafeningly noisy and the lights above were bright, and I kept to myself until Ignazio pulled me into the conversion, after which I retreated back again. I felt uneasy without my camera, and I constantly had the urge to find it,

Ignazio introduced me to producers, mentors, collaboration artists, marketing directors, and loads of other people who were very professional and important, and I began to wish for the quiet condo and my familiar photos. I obediently followed Ignazio wherever he went, but drew back from his touch and absentmindedly listened when he spoke to me. I felt him watching me occasionally, and I looked up and smiled to reassure him that I was having a good time.

I was hungry, and I was glad when people began to take their seats for dinner. Ignazio led me to what he jokingly called the "table of honor," where the three boys and I sat with Michele and Barbara and a few producers. I focused on the food and listened to the conversation around me without contributing to it.

I turned in my chair and looked over all the people throughout the enormous room, and was a little unnerved to find some watching back.

I was content to sit and eat beside Ignazio, and I listened to the subdued din of the people as they ate together. As people began to finish eating, they got up and began to walk around again, talking and laughing and moving to sit at other tables. I sat quietly beside Ignazio and watched them, thinking and feeling the lack of a camera in my hands. Everyone was so important and well-known, with each of their roles in Il Volo's success, and I felt greatly out of place as I watched Piero and Gianluca get up and talk with people, hugging and praising and having fun.

"Tamzin? Tamzin…"

I looked away from the crowd and turned to Ignazio, who was watching me intently.

"You have a strange look on your face."

I shrugged and looked back at the people.

"You've been so quiet tonight, Tamzin. What are you thinking about? Aren't you having fun?"

"Yes."

He watched me quietly for a moment, and then shook his head.

"No you're not. What's wrong, my dear?"

I looked up at him and offered a small smile to appease him.

"I'm okay. Do you want to go mingle again?"

"No, I want you to tell me what's wrong."

I observed his sincerity, and then looked back at the people and sighed, giving in to his request.

"Everyone's just so important here, Ignazio."

"Yes…And?"

"And I'm just the photographer! I feel like I shouldn't be here."

"What? Tamzin, you deserve to be here. You're the best photographer we've ever had!"

"Thanks, but I'm still only the photographer. These people are singers! And producers! I feel so out of place. I should've stayed at the condo and worked on organizing my photos like I had planned to do before."

"You weren't planning on coming?"

He looked very surprised, and I shrugged and nodded.

"No. I thought it was implied that I wasn't coming. Being the photographer isn't exactly a crucial role."

"Okay, no. We've got to put a stop to this," he said, rising from his seat and pushing his chair back. "Come on, Tamzin."

"Oh, geez. What can of worms have I opened now?"

He laughed and reached down to pull me up.

"Where are we going?"

"I've got some things to show you."

I sighed.

"Ignazio…"

"Come on."

He led me briskly through the energized crowd to the foyer of the building, where he pointed out a huge Il Volo themed display containing many of my photos.

"Come see."

"Can we not?"

He took my arm and I rolled my eyes but didn't pull away, letting him pull me to the display though I knew where he was going with his mission.

He brought me up to the table and pointed to the poster containing the new album cover.

"For starters, whose photo is that?"

"Ignazio…"

"Who took the photo, Tamzin? Who was the one who took the photo for our new album cover?"

"Me! Me, Ignazio! Yes, I am fully aware that I am the one who took the picture!"

He picked up a copy of the CD and opened the case, pulling out the booklet of lyrics and flipping through it.

"Whose pictures are in here?"

"Mine."

He waved his hand over the sheets of photos on display on the table and smiled at me.

"Whose are these?"

"Mine. I know, Ignazio."

"Whose photos are on the Il Volo social media pages?"

"Mine."

"Whose-"

"Mine, Ignazio! I get it! I take a lot of pictures!"

I glared at him in exasperation, but he looked gently back, his expression shifting to a somber gaze. I turned away and looked at the people swarming throughout the entryway, the din of their voices getting louder as more people came in to admire the display.

I felt as if I had had enough of the party, and I turned away and looked at the staircase leading to an upstairs balcony. Ignazio followed my gaze and then didn't hesitate to follow me up the stairs and onto the landing at the top. I stole away from the noisy conversation into the dark chill of the night as I pushed open a door on the landing and stepped out onto the balcony.

"Shut the door," I instructed Ignazio when he stepped out behind me, and the indoor noise quieted when he obeyed. I went to the railing and leaned over it, looking out at the darkened Los Angeles under and in front of me. I touched my hand on the railing, but then moved it back when I found it to be icy cold in the chilly November evening.

"Tamzin," Ignazio said softly, moving beside me at the railing and looking down at me. I glanced at him and then back over the railing as I awaited his lecture. "Tamzin, you are very important to Il Volo. We need you as our photographer. We need someone to document and capture on film the things that we do. We want people to have a peek into our world, onstage and off. Do you understand me?"

"Then why aren't I taking pictures tonight?"

"Michele wanted you to just enjoy the party with the rest of us, enjoy yourself as part our team. But do you understand that you're important to us?"

"Sure, Ignazio."

"Tamzin, look at me."

I looked at him

"Whether you know it or not, you're controlling how the public sees us."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"The pictures you take, the way you portray us, is how the public sees us. Your pictures are on the CD cover, the lyric booklets, in many of our Youtube and promotional videos, and on our social media pages! People are getting updates on us from you!"

"Well, it's true that I keep people updated with the pictures, but you're the singer! Think about it, Ignazio! You go onstage and sing, you touch people's hearts with your music…I take pictures of it. You go on tour…I take pictures of it. You meet fans…I take pictures of it."

He shook his head.

"Don't compare our talents, Tamzin. The boys and I are trying to be the best at what we do, and you're doing the same, right?"

"Of course! You know I am, Ignazio!"

"Yes, I do! For heaven's sake, Tamzin, you're from Harrison! You're at the TOP of the photography world! We wanted specifically you to be a part of our team! Did you know that we all had a part in choosing our new photographer? It wasn't just Michele who picked you! We all loved your work! And Mr. Masters told us you were very spirited and ambitious! We wanted specifically you to work with us, and we made the right choice! Your photography is amazing! Your pictures let people into our world!"

I stared at him, absorbing his words with a newfound interest. It was less of a lecture and more of an enthusiastic rant, setting before me information ringing with flattery and seemingly undeniable truth. Ignazio's eyes shone with eager determination as he spoke, moving me to pay attention.

"You don't realize how much control you have, Tamzin! You're controlling how the public sees us! People learn about us from your work, and they follow our activity with your pictures. People treasure your work, and you guide them all to our music. Their opinion of us begins in your hands!"

I stared at him, incredulous, my attention captured in his declaration. I envisioned myself as a part of the team, as Ignazio did, and was astonished with the thought that it seemed…right. They had told me I was a part of the team from the beginning, but I had always dismissed it because I originally hadn't wanted to be a part of their group. Now, with all the hours of work and all my fervent dedication to the boys and my job, I suppose I had mentally shifted to being a part of the team without realizing.

"I control how the public perceives you," I repeated, and then smiled, "It makes me sound so… powerful!"

"Our team is very powerful!" Ignazio said, smiling with me. "And you are a part of it! You're a powerful part of the audio-visual team!"

"What!? That's a thing!?"

He laughed.

"Of course! That's the photographer, filmmakers, sound mixers…"

"I haven't heard of that before. Audio-visual team…"

"Yes, Tamzin. You're our photographer, and you're also part of our team."

I stared over the balcony, smiling softly as I considered this seriously for the first time, seeing myself as having great power and importance in the world of Il Volo. I saw my photos online and on the cover of the Il Volo CD, and my chest swelled with pride.

I thought about the apparent power I had with my photography, and my mind began to race as I thought about how much more I could do with the photography if I wanted to. I could make my own photography project for Il Volo, and then run with it like I did with my landscapes. I could go even more above and beyond what was expected of me, and do something that was technically part of my job but was more at the same time, something that I chose to do instead of the obvious to-do lists under my contract. Pick something for me that benefited them, and then carry it out to my own content! My heart quickened as my head whirled with excited ideas, things to take up and carry out with the same ambition as I carried out my landscapes! If Il Volo liked my project, I would allow it to be theirs. It they didn't see it the way I did, then it'd be mine to keep. I could do something more now, now that I was becoming aware of my place in the world of Il Volo. I could be the photographer, and also be more than the photographer.

"What are you thinking?" Ignazio asked, and I snapped back to the balcony and looked at him. He was looking eagerly down at me. "That spark is back in your eye," he commented, and I grinned with excitement.

"Oh, I'm just thinking…playing…So I could do some Il Volo themed photography _projects_, couldn't I?"

He shrugged and smiled at me.

"I guess so. What are you thinking of?"

He watched me closely as I smiled at him, then past him and laughed suddenly and loudly, the gleeful sound quickly resounding in the night.

He smiled eagerly, showing off his dimples as his eyes shone, and I gripped the freezing handrail in excitement, staring over the balcony into the night sky shining with brilliant stars as my mind raced. Ignazio stood quietly beside me, stifling his obviously lingering smile at the sound of my laughter, also looking into the dark as if waiting to see what I was thinking.

"Are you cold?" he asked suddenly, and I was struck with the realization that I was shaking. Whether from excitement or cold or both I was unsure of, but the air _was_ rather chilly.

"I'm okay," I said softly, taking my hands from the freezing railing and looking at the palms that were turning red. I looked up at Ignazio, and he smiled and reached behind him, shrugging out of his jacket as he continued smiling at me.

He handed it to me, and I smiled back and took it. As I draped it around my bare shoulders and reached back to put my arm into the sleeves, Ignazio moved closer to help me. He held up the jacket and I reached back and slipped my arms into it, immediately receiving Ignazio's warmth lingering inside. I smiled at the coziness of it and reached up to adjust it over my shoulders, covering up some of the front of the dress, but I didn't mind so much. The jacket felt nice. I took the edges of the fabric in my stiff fingers and ran my hands down the front of the jacket while I looked up over the railing again. When I got down to my middle, Ignazio reached out and took my hands in his.

I tensed up involuntarily, and he turned my hands in his to hold them.

"Wow, my dear, they're so cold!" he remarked, his palms warm against mine. I stood still, feeling his hands in mine, the warm jacket around me and him standing so close behind me.

He released one of my hands and held the other one tightly so I wouldn't let go, pulling my arm over my head and turning me gracefully around to face him.

I was struck by the way he was looking at me, his expression tender and curious. I looked up at him, silenced by his gaze, and watched as he raised my hands to his lips and kissed them, bringing his lips not to the backs of my hands, but to my palms.

When he looked up, his eyes danced with joyful eagerness, and I shared his bright smile with him.

He gazed at me quietly for a moment, until I looked away and glanced at the doors behind him leading back to the party.

"Are you ready to go back?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Not yet."

He let go of my hands and reached out to take me around the waist instead, and it felt natural for me to reach my arms up around his neck.

He leaned slowly toward me as if expecting me to move away, but when I didn't resist his grip tightened and he touched his lips gently to mine. I closed my eyes and took in his warmth and his arms around me.

After a moment, he pulled back and smiled brightly at me, his eyes dancing.

I smiled playfully at him, still in his arms.

"Brilliant," I observed, and when he laughed I did too.

When we reentered the party, with me holding onto Ignazio's arm, we found that Il Volo's "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" was blasting throughout the room. People had pushed aside some of the tables and were dancing together throughout the enormous room and laughing with the upbeat rhythm of the song. It was warm inside, and I handed Ignazio back the jacket and smiled up at him.

"Brilliant, they're playing your CD!" I said to Ignazio, and he smiled and nodded at me, his dimples showing.

"It wouldn't be a Christmas party without Christmas music!" he said, and I smiled and then turned to Piero, who danced past us with Belinda, a pop singer that Il Volo had collaborated with.

"Where've you guys been!?" he called over the music, "Everyone's been looking for you!"

"Oh…we just stepped out for a minute," Ignazio said as Piero danced away, and then he leaned close to me and said in my ear, "I don't know about you, but I've been to the moon and back."

I raised my eyebrows at him and then smiled playfully and tugged on his arm, "Come on, let's go sit."

"Sit?" he asked, pulling me closer to him and shaking his head chasteningly, "Oh no, no, no, Tamzin, you promised me a dance!"

"I did?"

"Yes! I believe your exact words were, "Sure, I guess so.""

I laughed, and shook my head as I eyed the people dancing.

"I don't dance very well."

"That's okay! We'll figure it out. Hey, there's the next song, perfect!"

"Okay," I said uncertainly, and he put down the arm I was holding and then dramatically offered me his hand as he went down on one knee.

"What are you doing?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"May I have this dance, Ms. Montgomery?"

"Why certainly," I said back just as dramatically, suddenly deciding to play along as I clasped a hand over my heart in mock surprise and placed my other hand in his.

He stood and smiled softly at me, dropping the playful act as he gazed at me and led me to an empty space of floor in the midst of the crowd.

"You put your hand here," he guided me, moving my hand to his shoulder, "And I take you here." He took me gently around the waist with his hand, and then held out his other hand beside me, "And then you take my hand."

I did as he said, and then he gently began to sway side to side with me.

The beginning of the song was slow and in Spanish, and I didn't recognize it until Gianluca's voice chimed in with, "Feliz Navidad…"

"Oh!" I said, "I know this song! I love this song!"

Ignazio nodded eagerly, pulling me closer to him as we swayed back and forth and turned in a circle as the pace of the music quickened.

He soon began to sing his own part, "I wanna wish you a merry Christmas…I wanna wish you a merry Christmas…"

His voice was so beautiful, and I smiled up at him as I listened.

"Sing with me!" he encouraged, and I quickly shook my head.

"No way, Ignazio!"

"Fine, then at least try a turn."

"What?"

He pulled up my hand and quickly spun me around, making me momentarily let go of him as I turned. When I faced front again, he took me back to him, pulling me close again by the waist as I reached up my hand to his shoulder again.

"How was that?" he asked, and I laughed gleefully in response, encouraging him to spin me around yet again and then pull me back to him like before.

"Look, Tamzin, salsa," he said, and then showed me to step forward with my right foot as he stepped back with his left, and then we would reverse.

I pulled away from him and did the steps on my own for only a moment before Ignazio came forward and eagerly took my hands, moving forward and back with me as I laughed and watched our feet, trying not to step on him.

I was quickly doing the salsa with ease, and when I looked up at him in excitement, he quickly leaned forward and snuck a kiss on my cheek.

"Ignazio!" I exclaimed, and he quickly twirled me around, laughing, and pulled me back to him. He pulled me close and began the gentle swaying with me again, but I insisted on doing more salsa, and he immediately obliged, singing along with his own voice again on the CD, capturing the attention of nearby dancers.

Near the end of the song he insisted on doing the slower dancing so that he could hold me close, adding in turns so that he had a chance to pull me closely back to him at the end and hear me laugh again and again.

He sang as we danced, and when he pulled me close after twirls he leaned his head forward so he would sing only to me.

In the last few moments of the song, he leaned his forehead against mine, still singing, and when the song ended with a flourish he quickly kissed my cheek again. He smiled and shook his head playfully, his eyes shining eagerly.

"And you say you don't dance very well! How was that though, fun?"

In response, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, breathless with excitement and laughing giddily.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Before Il Volo started their tour of Christmas concerts, Michele had a promotional week scheduled, in which the boys would appear on a few morning shows, late-night shows, and radio programs scattered throughout the country.

That meant our time being hugely occupied with flying from place to place, giving me much time to work on my project, an idea I had pounced on from an earlier observation. I was thrilled with the ideas I flirted with, and I was engrossed in my work, constantly on my laptop forming designs that were subject to my whims.

I kept my plans to myself, wanting them to be quiet until I could carry them out, and also savoring that they were exclusively my secret. Though I never told any of the other Il Volo "teammates" that I had begun my own project, I thought everyone knew something was up, especially Ignazio, who constantly noticed my involuntary smiling, approving nods at the laptop screen, and the way I typed in hyperspeed.

It wasn't a particularly ambitious venture, but it was mine and I was in total control of its progress. When Ignazio had brought to my attention my to my own importance and influence in the Il Volo community, the first thing that came to my mind when I thought of being in control of my own projects was the Il Volo merchandise, or lack of. Excluding the CDs, of course, there wasn't much else available for the Il Volovers, and after reading through some discussions on a fan website, I realized that this was the general consensus.

So I had immediately set to work designing an Il Volo poster and T-shirt. The poster was nice, one of my pictures of the boys in concert against a red background, with images of the boys' signatures under them in gold, and the words "Il Volo" in huge block letters above them. I really liked it, and I was secretly arranging to have it printed.

But I was especially proud of the design I had come up with for the T-shirt, after many discarded documents of inferior imaginings.

The shirt was the Italian flag, with the left side a green stripe, the middle of the front and back white, and the right side a rich red stripe. I planned for there to be a picture of one of the boys in each color, Ignazio in the green, Gianluca in the white, and Piero in the red. Arched above them were the words "Il Volo" in block letters across the chest of the shirt, and their signatures in gold were below the pictures of the boys. The back of the T-shirt was a quote I had found online that I thought was perfect: "LOVE makes the world go around, but ITALIANS make it worth the trip!"

I was ecstatic about the T-shirt, and very eager to get it printed. I kept returning to the design and staring at it, diligently trying to determine if it could be better and ending up just admiring it every time. I had eagerly observed that many people like to wear flags of countries other than their own, like all the British-themed merchandise in the U.S.!

The fans widely embraced that the boys were from Italy, and I thought they'd go crazy over the new T-shirt. I was dying to get it printed and hold the shirt in my hands, but it was still missing the essential photos of the boys!

I wanted a new photo of them singing, with each of them holding the microphone and doing specific characteristic actions I wanted to capture from each of them. I wanted to get Piero's hand over his heart and the way he occasionally closes his eyes when he sings, Gianluca's serious look and dramatic pose he adopts every so often onstage, and Ignazio's shining eyes and his excited expression when he hits the high note of a song.

I knew exactly at what points during their music they would assume these positions, and I was determined to catch them the next time they sang together.

I stood in front of the stage in the nearly empty auditorium, where the night show would soon be recorded. Michele had brought us to the auditorium very early so the boys could get a feel for the stage before their performance later in the evening. Unfortunately, the boys weren't in a very good mood to practice, as evidenced by their gleeful romping around the stage and their playful silliness as they sang pop songs instead of "I'll Be Home For Christmas," the song they'd be singing on the show.

"Boys, come one!" Michele called, clapping his hands together. "Just sing the song and we can go!"

"Oh, but Michele!" Ignazio whined playfully, "We're having soooo much fun!"

"We've been on a plane forever!" Piero chimed in, adopting the same pout as Ignazio.

Oblivious to their conversation, I eyed the stage, feeling determined and excited to get the photos I needed for the T-shirt. I gazed about the theatre, silently taking in the endless possibilities around me. I pictured specifically what I wanted and almost trembled with exhilaration. Ambition overtook me and I pulled myself up onto the stage, sure that my perfect photos were within my reach.

As Michele chastised the boys, I gripped my camera and wandered around the stage, finding the best photography spots. I walked around the boys, intent on finding the right angles. I jumped down and moved around along the edge of the stage, tracing my fingers along it as I hunted down the right places to stand. I paused after a few moments, looking up at Ignazio from below, and then quickly crouched down to my knees, looking up at the stage. I aimed up my camera to see the angle, and a gleeful smile broke out on my face.

_ Brilliant!_

I looked up and rolled my eyes as I observed the boys' continuing horseplaying as Michele spoke with a studio worker, momentarily relenting in his chastising.

"Boys!" I cried suddenly, jumping up with my hands agitatedly on my hips, and they stopped and turned to me. "Practice! Now! I've got some pictures to get, and I'm getting impatient with you! Get into your spots and start singing! Now!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Piero said, saluting teasingly, and then the three of them laughed and moved to their spots.

"And be serious!" I called, jumping onto the stage and gesturing wildly in front of them so they'd pay attention, "Give me some emotion! This is important!"

"Why?" Gianluca asked as I turned and jumped down.

"Just do it!" I demanded over my shoulder as I went to my first spot, the place where I'd capture Ignazio's excited expression.

The music started, and as Ignazio started to sing, he smiled at me and struck a dramatic pose.

"Don't look at me, Ignazio!" I ordered, rolling my eyes, and he smiled and shifted his gaze to the empty seats where the audience would be seated, pretending he was singing to the crowd. His eyes were shimmering with playful delight, and I dropped to my knees and clasped the cold metal of the camera in my hands, waiting, waiting…Brilliant!

I snapped the picture and stayed on my knees, taking more as his expression and posture changed slightly. Then I suddenly snapped up and sprinted around the stage, leaping around a startled Michele and nearly tripping over a stray speaker as I made my way to my spot.

I dropped down in front of Piero, watching him, and he grinned at me and began to move toward the edge of the stage toward me as he sang.

"No!" I commanded, pointing at his spot, and he looked surprised as he moved back. He quickly recovered and looked out at the crowd, tenderly watching the empty seats. When he moved his hand over his heart, I smiled in excitement and held up the camera, pausing, waiting…

When his eyes closed, I got the pictures I needed, and then by the time he opened them again, I was already gone, dashing around Michele to the middle of the stage.

"Goodness, Tamzin!" he exclaimed as he jumped back from me, making the boys laugh.

I went right up in front of Gianluca as he began to sing, and I got down on my knees, poised to capture the images I was waiting for.

Gianluca eyed me, smiling until I yelled, "I'm not here, Gianluca!" so he'd finally look away.

Usually they didn't pay attention to me because their focus was on the crowd, but I guess it was hard _not_ to watch me as I dashed back and forth in front of them, crazy with excitement.

I laughed gleefully over the music as I caught Gianluca's dramatic pose on the camera, and then I leaped up and sprinted away to see what else I could get from them.

I ran back and forth in front of the stage until Michele decided to withdraw from his spot completely, giving me room to carry out my crazed endeavors.

The boys immensely enjoyed my frenzy, and the knowing smiles they exchanged made a great photo, though I still wanted them to ignore me so I could get more of their usual gazes.

As they sang, I masterfully captured each moment, movement, and expression on my camera, snatching them from the theatre's grasp and hiding them in my camera. By the end of the song I was breathing hard and trembling with wild energy, clutching the camera tightly to my chest as I looked up eagerly at the boys.

"How'd we do, Tamzin?" Ignazio called, and through my breathless smiling I answered, "Brilliant!"

"We have Tamzin's approval!" Piero cried, throwing up his hands triumphantly and shattering the tender mood the song had brought on, inspiring another round of laughter and playful joking from the three boys. I slunk away with my camera, my prize, held tightly in my arms, and I collapsed into an audience chair, shaking with eager energy as I clutched it to my chest.

As I began to review the photos, I looked up and laughed suddenly when I heard the boys beginning to sing pop songs together to Michele, who laughed also and watched them. Ignazio turned to me, beaming with delight and beckoning me, but I was lost in the realm of my own ingenuity, in my photos. Intent only on the pictures in front of me, I flipped through the images on the camera and grinned incessantly at the screen.

_Brilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant!_

They were exactly what I wanted, and I as I pictured them on the T-shirt I gazed off dreamily into the distance, until the bright lights of the stage pulled me back and I submerged myself in the pictures again, listening happily to Il Volo playing around in the background as Michele talked with stagehands again.

I was trembling with excitement, reveling in the perfection of my photos, jubilantly experiencing the satisfaction of bringing a vision to life. Soon I'd have the shirt, my project, in my hands, seeing my real design come into being by my own effort.

"Brilliant!" I breathed, gazing absentmindedly at the stage.

"Hey, Michele," I heard Iganzio call, "You know what we should sing on The Tonight Show?"

I focused my gaze on Ignazio, who pointed at a stagehand who immediately started some music. Then he dramatically gestured to Gianluca, prompting him to strike a pose and sing happily with the recording, _"Rockin' around the Christmas tree! At the Christmas party hop! Mistletoe hung where you can see! Every couple tries to stop!"_

I laughed suddenly, sounding wild and giddy as I watched them dancing and posing dramatically.

Ignazio started to sing his part, his dimples showing as he smiled wide, his eyes shining playfully as he turned to see me.

_"Voices singing let's be jolly! Deck the halls with boughs of holly!"_

He came quickly to the edge of the stage and tucked the microphone in his pocket, letting the music play as he beckoned me wildly.

"Tamzin, come here!" he called, and I jumped up agreeably and hurried to the stage, leaving the camera in the chair behind me.

"The pictures are amazing!" I called ecstatically, laughing giddily, and he laughed with me and reached down his hands to me.

"That's great, Tamzin! Come here!"

I took his hands and he immediately pulled me closer to the stage and then upward.

"Ignazio!" I gasped as he hoisted me up quickly from the floor and onto the stage by my hands. He set me down in front of him and laughed at my surprise, then pulled me close to him and rested a hand on my waist.

"Dance with me!" he called happily over the music, and I laughed but wriggled out of his grasp, taking his hands to salsa with him.

As the upbeat music echoed loudly in the theatre, Ignazio and I moved rapidly forward and back, laughing as Ignazio spun me around and caught me when I broke away from him to dance teasingly around him. Piero and Gianluca watched us and came to dance beside us, and they playfully tried to take me from Iganzio, who giddily pulled me away and kept dancing with me. I laughed at his silly faces and dramatic poses, and allowed him to pull me close, breaking out of the salsa to rock quickly from side to side as he tightly held me and kept me from slipping.

Michele watched us cheerfully romping and singing around the stage, shaking his head and letting us play around while we had the auditorium all to ourselves. Ignazio sang without the microphone so he could hold me with both hands and capture me again and again as I playfully wriggled away.

In the final notes of the song, I leaped away from Iganzio one last time, and when he rushed forward to me I happily let him pull me back to him, letting him pull me closer and closer to him as his eyes shone brightly and brilliantly. The song ended, and the joyous laughter of the four of us and Michele filled the silence. Ignazio and I shared a smile, breathless and breathing hard.

The next song on the Il Volo Christmas CD started, soft symphony music and the low ringing of bells, and I expected Iganzio to release me.

Instead, he held my hands tightly, keeping me close to him, and I watched curiously as his playful expression shifted to content tenderness. I looked up at him in bewilderment for only a moment before he released my hands and instead wrapped his arms around my waist. He gently pulled me closer to him as I bewilderedly reached up and laid my hands on his shoulders, looking up into his gentle eyes.

The dimples disappeared as the bright smile faded, and before I knew what was happening, he leaned forward and gently touched his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and felt him against me, my hands slipping blissfully down from his shoulders to his chest, resting on the sleek black jacket of his suit, his tie velvety and cool under my fingers.

Then after a moment he pulled back and the brilliant smile returned instantly, even brighter than before, his eyes dancing gleefully.

"Ignazio!" I chastened, suddenly startled, and then pulled quickly out of his grasp and turned to Gianluca and Piero. I expected them to be shocked, dazed, maybe even angry, but they just exchanged knowing smiles and continued adjusting the microphone stands.

I watched them for a moment, still breathing hard from all the dancing, confused. I felt Ignazio gazing at me, and I turned back to him, looking up at him as he regarded my confusion with a gentle smile.

"They know?" I asked, and his smiled widened as he watched me.

"Tamzin," he said softly, taking my hand, "They knew a long time before either of us did that I was falling for you."

He gently moved me back to him, resting his hands around my waist, and when I anticipated he was going to kiss me again I closed my eyes and contentedly let him.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I liked the Christmas concerts. The stages had beautiful decorations, with huge Christmas trees, white Christmas lights, and festive red and green curtains. The beautiful arrangements allowed for creative photography, and I liked being able to incorporate the Christmas props into the pictures. The boys handed out candy canes to people in the crowd during the concert, and the people at the concerts were always cheery and loved to sing along with the familiar songs.

I also loved being back in the U.S., my home, and I liked always being somewhat familiar with where we were stopped. Being from Florida, I was accustomed to hot summers and mild winters, so when we stopped in Colorado and snow started to fall, my breath was taken away by its beauty.

I loved to go out and get pictures of the different places we stopped in the wintertime, though the cold was bitter and harsh to me. I would bundle myself up and go out with my camera, tolerating the cold as I ran on foot through the freezing cities and countrysides. My fingers would go numb, my cheeks and nose turned a bright red, and my breath would be apparent in the freezing winter air, but nothing could stop me from getting my landscapes. My laughter and the sound of my lonely high-tops on cement and crunching snow echoed throughout the quiet cold atmospheres of the cities in the early mornings and late evenings.

I captured the cold, bare beaches in Florida, the white-tipped mountains in Colorado, Christmas tree forests in Michigan, and the extravagant holiday decorations in Las Vegas. The winter landscapes and decorations made for brilliant photography, and Ignazio was always eager to welcome me back from my outdoor winter romps with blankets and hot chocolate. We would sit together as I defrosted and reviewed my photos, storing them and letting him look through them, savoring his wonder at the scenes I had captured.

In December we stopped for several for several days in New York, and I secretly made arrangements and agreements with a printing company, anticipating receiving my T-shirt and poster prototypes. On the day I was to pick them up, I woke up early, excitement coursing through me as I passed the printouts of my designs on the hotel kitchen table.

The boys would soon be going to the concert theatre they were performing in, and they expected me to go to it sometime during their rehearsal to observe the stage and find some good places for concert photos. I got dressed and pulled on my red coat and scarf, slipping out of the hotel with my camera before any of them were probably even awake. I walked down the gradually lightening street in the cold morning air, my high-tops tapping briskly against the cement. The city was busy despite it being so early; cars, taxis, and bicyclists rushed by noisily as I hurried along on my mission, focused on getting to the printing company.

I hopped out of the taxi and ran up to the theatre rising up above me into the sky. I ran up the steps clutching the packages to my chest within my coat, my high-tops a brilliant red blur as I dashed forward. I pulled open the heavy front door and ran inside, my shoes echoing in the hallway as I sprinted into the huge theatre.

I was surprised to find it mostly empty, except for the men moving around on the stage setting up for the evening concert. I looked around and started toward the stage, hunting for the boys or Michele or Barbara.

"BOYS!?" I called breathlessly, pausing to listen for an answer.

One of the stagehands straightened and pointed toward the backstage, and I nodded and started forward again, hurrying down the aisle and up the stage steps. I paused at the top, watching a stagehand setting up a Christmas tree.

"Move it over there," I directed, pointing to another spot on the stage. "It'll make for better photos."

"And who are you?" he asked condescendingly, raising an eyebrow at me.

"_I_ am the photographer!" I declared, smiling at him for a moment before I whirled around and ran backstage.

"Boys!?" I hollered, and heard Michele call back, "Over here, Tamzin!"

I raced excitedly through the hallway, following the sound into a huge lounge where the boys were sitting, yawning and drinking coffee as they talked. They jumped and looked up when I burst in, breathless and beaming eagerly at them.

"My goodness, Tamzin!" Michele exclaimed, his hand on his chest, "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days!"

"Sorry!" I said, quickly setting down my packages on a table and stripping off my scarf and coat. "I have something to show you guys!"

"Ooh, great! Is this what you've been working on?" Ignazio asked eagerly, sitting up straighter and setting down his coffee. I nodded enthusiastically and grabbed one of the packages, ripping off the wrapping and moving it where they couldn't see what was inside.

"It's so great! Are you guys ready to see it? You have to be ready!"

Piero yawned as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"It's too early for this, Tamzin," he said, and Gianluca smiled as he sipped his coffee.

"Aww, poor baby," Ignazio teased, shoving him, "Come on, Piero, pay attention!"

"It's too early for you, too," he said groggily, shoving Ignazio back, "But okay, Tamzin, I'm listening."

"What've you got?" Gianluca asked curiously, eyeing the wrapping on the floor.

I reached behind me and took the poster in my hands, feeling the cool paper in my palms.

"Ready?" I asked again.

"Come on, Tamzin!" they all exclaimed, and I laughed and brought the poster around me to the front, unraveling it with a flourish. "THIS!...is what I've been working on!"

I held up the poster in front of my face for a moment, then lowered it eagerly to see their astonishment when I heard their surprised gasps.

"Wow!" Piero said, suddenly wide awake, and Ignazio jumped up from the couch and moved closer.

"That's amazing!" he said, smiling brightly at the poster, than at me. "I love it!"

"It's great, Tamzin!" Piero said, nodding in approval, and Gianluca got up and came beside Ignazio to study it, prompting Piero to follow. The three of them crowded around me, pointing out the things they liked and complimenting me on it.

"Can I see?" Ignazio asked, and I handed it over to him, watching him jubilantly as he held it up for them to admire. They marveled over it, looking over at me and smiling.

"It's great, Tamzin!" Ignazio said as Michele came beside him and reached out for the poster. Ignazio let him take it, and then he smiled brightly at me and came beside me. He moved to put his arm around my shoulders, but I ducked away and smiled playfully at him as I grabbed the second package from the table and jumped onto a chair for my even greater announcement.

"Oh, but that's not ALLLL!" I said in a radio-announcer voice, and the boys, Michele, and Barbara looked up at me, surprised and smiling. "I've also been working on something else! Something so great that it has occupied my thoughts at least since the Christmas CD party! I have been planning this…designing and re-designing this-"

"Come on, Tamzin!" Gianluca laughed, "What is it?"

"What is it, you ask?" I said dramatically, turning to him on the chair and looking down at him. "Why, it's THIS!"

I pulled out a bundle of fabric from the package, then threw my fists into the air as the paper fell to the ground, letting the T-shirt unroll in front of me.

"TA-DAAA! Great, huh!?"

They laughed and exclaimed their admiration as I peered out from the side of the T-shirt and laughed giddily at their excitement.

"Wow! Cool!" Piero cried, bounding forward and grabbing it from me, turning it to see the back, and the three of them laughed when they read the quote. I watched eagerly as they touched and turned the shirt and admired my project.

"I love it!" Gianluca said, taking it from Piero. He smiled up at me and pulled it over his head, pushing his arms through the sleeves and turning around for us.

"How do I look?" he asked playfully, and we laughed with him as Ignazio held out his hand and helped me down from the chair.

"When did you get these printed?" he asked admiringly as Gianluca pulled it off carefully and handed it to him.

"I picked them up this morning!" I said, watching his excitement triumphantly, "I came here straight from the printing place!"

"We've got to print some more!" Piero said, taking it from Ignazio and holding it up again to see it. He flipped it around, then turned it again and held it in front of himself. "I want one!"

"Me too!" Gianluca and Ignazio said, and I clasped my hands together and laughed excitedly. Ignazio took my hand and pulled me to him so he could put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close so he could kiss my cheek.

"They're amazing, Tamzin! You did a great job!"

"He's right," Michele said, and I looked over at him and watched him and Barbara studying the shirt. "In fact, Tamzin, do you mind if I look into selling these?"

"Of course not!" I said, laughing, "That's what I had in mind, too!"

"I think they're gonna be a big hit!" Piero said approvingly as he and Gianluca got close to Michele to admire both the poster and the T-shirt.

"Absolutely!" Ignazio said, then smiled playfully at me and exclaimed, "They're going to be all the rage this winter!"

I laughed, and he hugged me tightly, making me realize suddenly that I was shaking in excitement.

"They're great, Tamzin," he said, and then leaned forward to kiss me. I took his head in my hands and kissed him back exuberantly, and then pulled back and happily watched Michele, Barbara, and the other boys fawn over my project as Ignazio stood dazed beside me, smiling faintly as he watched me.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Not yet, my dear. At least wait until the snow stops," Ignazio said from the small hotel suite kitchen as he watched me. I sighed and tore my eyes away from the window where I was staring longingly at the enchantingly immaculate falling snow.

"I know," I said dejectedly to Ignazio as I shifted on the hotel couch and looked over at my lonely camera lying on its chair.

"Maybe this will cheer you up," Ignazio said, coming up beside me carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"Ooh, thanks Ignazio!" I said, reaching out and carefully taking the mug from him. "Woa, what is this!?" I asked, seeing that the liquid inside the glass was white.

Ignazio sat beside me and smiled wide, his dimples showing and his eyes shining, "It's white hot chocolate with peppermint chips in it."

"Wow," I said bewilderedly, shaking my head, "Fancy."

I moved the warm laptop off of my thighs and set it on the coffee table, then sat cross-legged on the sofa and sipped the white hot chocolate.

Ignazio watched me intently, and when I smiled and licked my lips he smiled triumphantly and sipped his own.

"Oh, you've been checking the sales information," Ignazio said, seeing my laptop screen. He leaned forward and picked it up, adjusting himself on the sofa so he was sitting right next to me, his shoulder against mine. "Wow, Tamzin, the shirts are doing great!"

"Aren't they!?" I said excitedly, "And they haven't even been up for up a week yet! I think people might be buying them up as Christmas presents!"

"Probably so," he said, setting it back down. He smiled at me and moved his arm around my shoulders.

"Ignazio, you're going to make me spill my hot chocolate!" I protested, leaning forward and shrugging him off.

He shook his head, smiling, but complied.

"Are you excited about tomorrow?" he asked eagerly.

"For The Christmas Eve party not on Christmas Eve?" I asked, and he laughed, nodding.

"Of course!"

He was referring to the "New York Christmas Eve Extravaganza," the huge outdoor Christmas concert in Times Square. There was going to be several different artists performing Christmas songs to a massive crowd of fans. It was a huge event, and it was an honor for Il Volo to be invited. I thought it would be a cool photography opportunity, with the extravagant stage decorations and a huge adoring crowd, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get to the photography spots I wanted. Michele said it didn't really matter if my photos weren't en pointe for this concert, since it would be televised anyway, but I disagreed, wanting to get superb photos to be able to present to the Il Volovers.

Though it wasn't Christmas Eve yet, the concert was going to be televised on Christmas Eve, so for the artists performing, December 20th _was_ the new Christmas Eve.

"I think it'll be fun," I said, shrugging, "A big Christmas party."

"This concert's extra-special," Ignazio said, and I nodded.

"Definitely, because it's outside! It's going to be so cold!"

"Just make sure you bundle up," Ignazio said, "Coat, scarf, hat, gloves…" and I shook my head.

"I can't wear gloves. I have to be able to operate the camera!"

"Yikes, Tamzin, you're not going to be able to feel your fingers when it's over!"

"I know!" I said, "So I'm planning on getting some good pictures in the beginning of your songs, and then retreating to nurse my fingers."

He laughed.

"Yes, so it's going to be cold. But that's not why I meant it's extra special."

"Then what did you mean?" I asked, reaching out and pulling the laptop back onto my lap. Ignazio reached out and gently took the laptop, wordlessly closing it and setting it beside him on the couch. Confused, I didn't protest. Seeing that he was trying to get my full attention, I set down my hot chocolate and turned to face him.

He smiled gently at me and reached out to take my hand. His hand was warm and gentle, and larger than my little nimble one. He cradled it and smiled at me when I looked up from our hands to his face.

"It's extra-special because it's the last concert we'll be attending together before you leave for the month-long holiday break."

"Oh, yeah," I said softly, thinking of the early flight I'd have to catch the morning after the concert. I'd have four weeks off from our touring to go home to Florida and Harrison.

"What will you do in your time off?" he asked. "I suppose you'll be relaxing after having spent so much time around us and our shenanigans."

I laughed and shook my head.

"Relaxing? Ignazio, I'll be working!"

"What? Why?" he asked, looking confused, and I laughed again, tilting my head toward the laptop.

"I've got to start on a new project, now that that one's finished!"

He laughed, squeezing my hand, and I stayed still to receive his kiss on my cheek when he leaned in toward me.

When he pulled back, he was gazing at me with a sweet faraway smile on his face, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"Tamzin, I'm so happy that you're finally enjoying being with us! It's so great to see you being ambitious and excited."

I smiled and looked away, but he released my hand to reach for my face instead, getting me to look back at him.

"I see that spark in your eye more and more often."

I smiled, and he let go of my face and adjusted himself on the sofa to put his arm around me, and I let him this time.

"So what else will you do over the break?" he asked.

"I'll spend some time with my parents, I'll probably find some things to do around Harrison, and I'll monitor the Il Volo T-shirt and poster sales."

"Will you have some more landscapes to show me when you get back?"

"Of course!"

"Good! I can't wait!"

"So what will you do over the break? While you're home all the way over in Sicily?"

The endearing way he sighed softly in seeming relief as he smiled up at the ceiling prompted me to move closer to him, laying my head on his shoulder and a hand on his side.

His eyes brightened at my sudden movement, and he adjusted his arm around me to keep me close against him like I was.

"I'll be with my family again," he said, smiling. "I feel like I haven't seen them in ages! It's been so long…I can't wait to see their beautiful faces again! My parents, and my sister Nina…and my friends from home also. I'll have four whole weeks to be with them."

"Sounds nice," I said, peering up at him as he spoke.

"It'll be wonderful," he agreed, but then turned his head to me and gazed at me, his face shifting to look more somber as his arm tightened protectively around me. "But it's so long to be away from you, my dear. I'll miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too," I said softly, entranced by his sweet brown eyes.

He gently stroked my side with his thumb, and then after watching me quietly for a few moments, he leaned into me and kissed me, and reached for the side of my face when I kissed back. He pulled away after a moment and leaned his forehead against mine.

"Four weeks, Tamzin. It's so long to be away from you."

He kissed me again, and hugged me tightly.

"I wish I could just hide you in my coat and take you with me to Marsala!"

I laughed and hugged him back.

"Why can't you?"

He released me from the hug and kept me against him like we were before, smiling at me.

"Because you need to see your family, too. One day I hope I'll get to take you with me though, Tamzin."

"I'd love to go to Sicily! I bet the landscape is beautiful."

He laughed and nodded.

"Yes, my dear, it is. You'd get some great pictures."

"Four weeks…" I said, thinking. It _was_ a long break to have, considering I had been traveling with Il Volo night and day since August. But the boys hardly got to see their families, Michele told me, so it was good for them to go back home for a while. After the break, we'd start on the U.S. tour for the past CD, completing the tour we began before the Christmas concerts.

"It's such a long time," Ignazio said again, and then he smiled playfully and leaned into me, "We'll just have to make the concert tomorrow extra-special!"

"Meaning what?"

He kissed me, hushing me, and I shook my head and let it go, dismissing whatever antics he was inevitably planning.

He rested his head lightly against mine and didn't say anything more. He just held me, and I stayed still against him for a few minutes, feeling his arm around me and the warmth of his skin through his shirt. When I quickly began to feel uneasy with the silence and moved to get up, I was surprised for a moment when he pulled me back to him and held me tightly.

"Stay for a few minutes longer," he said softly, pleadingly, looking down at me with a gentle expression, and I nodded and settled down against him again, letting him hold me.

I stood shivering in the freezing air of Times Square as I watched Mariah Carey finish her performance, listening to the roar of the crowd. The producers had set up a small V.I.P. section on the side of the stage for photographers to stand, and I leaned against the railing surveying the crowd, trying to figure out how to get the photos I wanted. I decided I'd have to fight the crowd, and looked at the screaming fans pressed against the front of the stage. My long red coat fluttered in a sudden wind, and I shivered and rubbed my gloved hands together. The evening was dark, but the brilliant stage lights easily illuminated all of Times Square.

The noise of the crowd heightened suddenly as Mariah Carey's last song came to a close. Their screaming jolted me into action, slipping my camera around my neck, pulling off my red gloves and shoving them into my pockets, and exiting the protection of the V.I.P. area.

I stood beside it, poised to dive into the crowd as Mariah left and the host came out again to introduce Il Volo. He dragged out his introduction, and I jiggled my foot anxiously, my red high-top tapping against the freezing cement.

Come on…come on…where are the boys?

There was a lot of movement in the crowd as Il Volo fans fought their way to get closer to the front, and I watched the stage, waiting to see them come out.

_Okay…here I go…_

"Please welcome…Il VOLO!"

The people applauded, and I hurried into the crowd, holding my camera tightly and protectively against me.

"Excuse me! I need to get closer!" I said to people as I wriggled my way through them. To my surprise, some people actually let me past. I was able to get somewhat close to the stage, and I held up my camera and zoomed in on the three boys walking out together, the first notes of "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree" filling the air and energizing the crowd. In the midst of the people, there was noise and energy and movement all around me, and I fought to get a better spot to take pictures.

The boys were all wearing thick black coats to keep warm in the freezing December air as they performed, with scarves around their necks and thick gloves on their hands. They all looked stunningly handsome still, and they smiled eagerly at the crowd and waved as they sang energetically, moving around the stage and playfully dancing with each other for the crowd's entertainment.

I wove my way in and out of the sea of people, holding my camera away from those who simultaneously bustled past me. I went around getting the best shots I could with the people constantly in my way. As I took my pictures and fought through the fans, I wrestled my frustration, knowing exactly what I wanted but unable to get it because of the crowd.

I did the best that I could, and then finally decided that I had enough pictures, and that I had enough of the crowd also. I fought my way back out of it, escaping into the V.I.P. area and sighing as I sat down and set my camera on a table beside me.

My face was freezing, my cheeks and nose surely a bright red. My fingers felt small and weak with the cold, and my palms were red and pained. My hands were numb, and I rubbed them together and breathed into them, trying to get feeling back to review the photos I had taken. Then I could finally put my gloves back on!

I looked up at the boys, watching as they sang "O Holy Night," which seemed somewhat to pacify the crowd. I considered going back into it for a moment, but then shook my head quickly at myself as I tried to massage feeling back into my fingers. I had done the best I could.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and stood up, going to the end of the V.I.P. section and looking up at the boys from the side of the stage. I watched Gianluca as he gazing out lovingly at the people in front of him, his express tender and serious. I looked to Piero, who moved to the edge of the stage to greet some of the fans, looking eager and content up on the stage. Then I looked up at Ignazio, whose smile was bright and his eyes shining as the song ended and the crowd cheered loudly.

Then after a moment of cheering, Ignazio raised his microphone and said something to the crowd about being home for Christmas, but I was too entranced by the brilliant lights and his smile to hear him. Piero asked the crowd to sing with them, and then the first few notes of "I'll be Home for Christmas" echoed throughout the square, and the crowd cheered.

"_I'm dreaming tonight…Of a place I love…Even more than I usually do,"_ Ignazio sang, and the people swayed and sang along with him, their voices joining his in a beautiful choir. Ignazio nodded and encouraged them as he sang, and I smiled and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the railing and setting down my chin in my freezing palms.

I was about to turn and get back to reviewing the photos so I could put my gloves on when Ignazio turned sideways to look at me. It wasn't a subtle glance; he turned completely to the side to beam at me. I returned his sweet smile, dropping my elbows and resting my arms over the railing. Then he started toward me, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, drawing back when he came nearer and tilting my head at him in confusion.

I raised my hand and motioned as if to shoo him back to the middle of the stage, but he smiled wide and shook his head. When he started down the steps on the side of the stage, I left the V.I.P. section and went to meet him.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Did you get some good pictures?" he asked, his eyes shining playfully.

"Uh…yeah. What are you doing? Get back on the stage!"

People in the crowd were staring at us, some looking as if they wanted to come over since he wasn't on the stage anymore, and I felt as if I was interrupting the show by talking to him.

"I will," he said, holding out his gloved hand for mine, "Come with me."

"What!?" I drew back instinctively, pulling away my hands and vigorously shaking my head.

"Oh, come on, Tamzin! Come up with me."

"No!"

"Please, Tamzin? I won't leave you by yourself. I just want to bring you with me."

He smiled gently at me, his expression suddenly softening, keeping his hand out, and I nervously eyed the stage behind him.

"If it'll get you back up there," I heard myself say, nervously slipping my bare hand into his gloved one. It was warm around my skin, and he gently tugged on my hand and led me next to him back up the steps onto the stage. I eyed all the people watching us, watching me, and turned my face away quickly when Ignazio released my hand.

"Ignazio!" I protested, not wanting to be without his guidance, but he smiled sweetly at me as he reached into his pocket and then leaned toward me.

"For your fingers," he said over the noise of the crowd, slipping a pocket warmer into my palm.

"Oh!" I said, feeling the sudden blissful warmth against my skin. "Thank you, Ignazio!"

Ignazio took my hand and squeezed it, holding the pocket warmer between our palms. He stood close beside me, raising the microphone to sing again. He watched me, smiling, as he sang, and as I looked up into his eyes, it was like when he came over to my hotel room and sang to me as he cooked something or watched me edit photos. He took me gently around the waist, pulling me close to dance with him, and I put an arm around his shoulders and gingerly clasped the front of his coat in my palm over his chest. I smiled at him, and he smiled back as he sang. After a moment he dropped his arm holding the microphone, nodding at Piero, who took over singing. Ignazio quickly slipped the microphone into his pocket and took my hand, spinning me around once. When I turned back to him and stepped closer, reaching up to put my arm around his shoulder again, he reached up and took my hand, smiling playfully as he did a quick rock-step toward me.

"Salsa?" he asked, and I quickly shook my head and looked out over the crowd, frightened at the idea of dancing in front of all of them.

"No, Ignazio," I said, softly, my voice sounding small as I saw the media's cameras focused on Ignazio and me. Ignazio read my nervous expression and quickly pulled me back to him, taking me around the waist again.

"Alright, my dear, no salsa. I'm sorry," he said softly in my ear, holding me tightly as he gently swayed back and forth with me, taking out the microphone from his pocket to sing again.

I kept myself focused on his face as he sang, his eyes bright, but his expression tender. He sang the last few notes of the song, and then the audience erupted into applause again, and when I turned my head to look nervously at the crowd, Ignazio kissed my cheek.

"Ignazio!" I gasped, turning back to him, "Not on stage!"

He laughed and hugged me, and I looked up at the bright stage lights again.

"Can I get down now?" I pleaded, and he nodded and took my hand tightly in his.

"Come on."

He led me back across the brightly lit stage and went down the steps on the side with me.

"What'd you think!?" he asked eagerly as we reached the bottom of the steps and he released my hand.

"There were so many people," I said, realizing how breathless I sounded.

"I don't think I've ever seen you nervous before…" he said teasingly, smiling playfully, and I shot him a sudden glare, making him laugh.

"I'm sorry it frightened you, Tamzin. I just thought it would be fun. Are you okay?"

I nodded, letting my glare slip away.

"I think…I do not belong onstage, Ignazio."

"I won't do it again if you don't want me too," Ignazio said, his expression gentling. He leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips, and I let him since we weren't on the stage anymore and somewhat hidden by camera equipment. "But I do think you belong with me, my dear."

I smiled at him, and he kissed me one more time before turning and heading back to the stage and up the steps.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

I reached out from under the covers and grabbed my phone, turning off the alarm and setting it back down on the bedside table. I sighed and reached my hand back under the comforter, closing my eyes. It was so warm and comfortable under the covers…

Realizing that I was drifting back to sleep, I pried myself off of the mattress and out from under the blankets, into the cold air of the room. I rubbed my face and looked at the hotel clock.

Five A.M. Time to get ready to go.

I dressed, ate, and got ready to leave for the airport, moving sleepily and yawning as I went. I put the remainder of my things in my suitcase and pulled it to the door, then got my camera bag and set it on top. I looked back at the hotel room one last time, and then walked slowly toward the window, pushing back the curtains and peering out at the dark New York skyline. I could feel the cold through the window, and I shivered, taking one last look at the city before I let the curtain fall again. I turned and went back to the door, crouching in front of it to pull on my red high-tops. I pulled on my coat and then tugged up the handle of my suitcase, draping my heavy camera bag over my shoulder.

I turned off the lights and wheeled my suitcase as quietly as I could into the hallway. I carefully closed the door and then squinted through the dim hall lighting. I started toward the elevator, pulling the suitcase wearily behind me. As I passed Ignazio's door, I stopped, looking at it and picturing him sleeping within. We had said our goodbyes the night before, but I gingerly laid my hand on the cold wood and whispered, "Good bye, Ignazio. See you in January."

As I passed the doors of the others, I whispered last goodbyes to them, too, in the darkness.

"Goodbye, Gianluca. Goodbye, Piero. Goodbye, Michele. Goodbye, Barbara. Goodbye, band members."

As I approached the elevator doors, I was surprised when they opened and in the glow of the light inside, I saw Ignazio standing in the doorway in his brown leather jacket and jeans.

"Ignazio!?" I said, smiling suddenly. "What are you doing awake? You should be sleeping!"

"I set my alarm for the same time you did," he said a bit groggily, smiling as he held open the door for me. I wheeled my suitcase inside and he hugged me and kissed my cheek as the doors slid shut. He took my camera bag from me and slung it over his own shoulder.

"I want to drive you to the airport in the rental so I can tell you goodbye right before you leave."

"Really?" I stared at him, incredulous. "You got up at five A.M. just to drive me to the airport?"

"Yes," he said, resting his hand lightly on my waist. "After today, I won't get to see you for four more weeks."

I nodded, and then leaned forward to kiss his cheek, making him smile.

"Thank you. I'd much rather ride with you than with a random cab driver."

The doors opened, and Ignazio insisted on wheeling my suitcase for me, too. We walked together to the lobby, where I checked out, and then we went out to the parking lot, into the freezing air. I squinted and drew my coat tighter around me as I hurried beside Ignazio to the rental car.

He put my things in the backseat, and then we got in and he started the drive to the airport. We were quiet, except for our quick breathing from the hurrying through the parking lot. I watched him watching the nearly empty roads as he drove, admiring his thick dark hair, his dark eyebrows and sweet eyes, his soft expression, his broad shoulders and his gentle hands on the steering wheel.

"Tamzin," he said, turning his head to look at me. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Ignazio."

"I'll call you, okay? Will you answer me?"

"Of course!" I said, and laughed, making him smile brightly.

"Be careful when you go out to take your landscapes. I won't be there to stop you if it's too dangerous."

"Okay. I will."

"I want you to come back in one piece."

"I will."

"You will come back or be in one piece?"

I laughed, and he smiled, but then gently looked over at me.

"Really though, Tamzin. When the four weeks are over you're supposed to fly to Los Angeles, and I'll be at the airport to pick you up. You'll be there, right?"

"Of course, Ignazio." I tilted my head, studying him for a moment

. "Ignazio, are you scared I won't be there?"

For once, he seemed speechless, and he just glanced over at me, looking nervous.

"Why would you think that?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that I know this wasn't what you planned on doing when you left Harrison…and I know you hated being with us at first."

"I like it now," I pointed out, and he nodded.

"Yes. I'm very glad about that, but…I couldn't help but wonder about it. This is the first time since joining us you'll be away from us."

"I wouldn't run away, Ignazio."

I sat back in my seat and turned my gaze to the road, thinking. The idea of running away hadn't even crossed my mind. I was sure I wouldn't ever have decided to run away, but perhaps the idea might have crossed my mind if the break was at an earlier time. I thought back to when I first joined the Il Volo team. I would have rejoiced in some time away from them, but now it was something I accepted as a temporary break from work.

"I'm sorry," Ignazio said gently, "I shouldn't have thought it of you."

"No, it's okay," I said, shaking my head, "I like being part of Il Volo's team now, Ignazio, but a few months ago it might not have been such a crazy thought. I'll definitely see you in four weeks… and I expect to see you rested, healthy, and happy from your time in Sicily!"

"Ma'am yes ma'am!" he said, and we laughed, and then quieted as he turned onto the street of the airport.

"Bye, Ignazio," I said as he pulled into the airport parking lot, and he shook his head.

"Let me walk you inside."

He carried my bag again and pulled my suitcase behind him, and we walked side-by-side together into the building. He seemed somber and anxious, as if dropping me off for a four-month vacation instead of a four-week one.

Inside, we stood side-by-side, watching the bustle of early-morning activity inside the building. Ignazio turned his gaze to me after a moment, and when I looked up at him he wordlessly handed me my camera bag.

I took it, and then he wrapped me up in his arms, enveloping me in his coat and holding me against his chest. I hugged him tightly back, taking in his nice boyish scent, and he held me for a long moment. Then he pulled back and tenderly touched his lips to mine, and then after lingering there for a moment he pulled back and kissed both of my cheeks and my forehead. He took my head in his hands and gazed sweetly down at me, and I gazed back up at him, looking into his tender dark eyes.

"Goodbye, Ignazio."

"See you soon, Tamzin." He leaned his head forward and rested his forehead against mine, still holding my face in his hands. "I love you,Tamzin." he whispered.

I was taken aback, and I stared dumbstruck at him, suddenly wondering if he expected me to respond. But he immediately leaned forward and kissed my lips again, not giving me time to answer. Then he let go of me and handed me the suitcase handle, saying, "Have a great Christmas! Be safe. I'll see you in four weeks, my dear."

I nodded, and he stepped backwards and slowly starting walking back, continuing to watch me. I took one last look at him, and then turned and looked at the huge airport stretched out in front of me. I started forward, pulling the suitcase behind me and feeling him still watching me.

I was constantly in motion during the break, giving myself things to do so I wouldn't be bored. I checked in at the Academy and did some work there labeling and filing my landscapes, hanging around the campus during the day and showing Mr. Masters what I had been doing. I drove to different beaches and locations in Florida to get some nice landscapes, running around in the cool air with my camera as I climbed and crawled and found good places to get new landscapes. I already had hundreds of landscapes from Florida, but I enjoyed the challenge of finding new ways to portray it.

I stayed in my old bedroom in my parents' home in Tallahassee. They were excited to have me back home, and I was surprised when they wanted to know all about my new job working with Il Volo. They didn't understand my photography passion, and they couldn't comprehend my wild romps with my camera, the ecstatic thrill of capturing beauty to keep and share. I told them what they wanted to know, but left out the way I hated the job at first. I did tell them that I was becoming very close to Ignazio, and I think they realized something was going on between us when I brightened up whenever they mentioned his name. I spent most of my time in my parents' living room diligently working on the Il Volo websites, sharing photos with the fans, receiving fanart to share and the Il Volovers' opinions on my pictures, Il Volo's Christmas album, and their concerts.

I kept myself busy, but there was a strange, nagging loneliness that sometimes tugged on me. Ignazio was temporarily gone to me, vanished from my life. I was sorting through endless pictures and video clips of him, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't there beside me like he usually was, joking with me, singing incessantly, kissing my cheeks and gazing at me, and it made me feel strange that he was suddenly so absent. During the first few days of vacation without any contact from him, I half-expected him to saunter into the room and come over to see what I was working on.

As I went about my vacation days, I would wonder where he was, as I would during touring, and then realize he was all the way in Sicily, in a whole different country from me. I hoped he was having a good time with his parents, and I wondered if he missed me.

On Christmas day, after I had lunch with my parents and a few neighbors, I sat boredly on a chair in the kitchen while my parents cleaned up, sipping my hot chocolate that wasn't as good as Ignazio's and watching the adults converse in the living room.

Then my phone rang, and I picked it up and answered it without even seeing who was calling.

"Merry Christmas, my dear!" came the beautiful Italian accent, and I laughed so suddenly and joyfully that I startled both of my parents, who had seen me in a pretty calm demeanor the past few days. "Ignazio!" I cried, jumping up to go into my bedroom, and my parents smiled and shared a look.

I missed Ignazio so much. I longed to be back with him, traveling with Il Volo again. I missed all of the boys, and Michele and Barbra, too. I felt so distanced from them, and the world around me sometimes felt like it did before I left with Il Volo, like I was going about my life preparing for my acceptance into National Geographic, and I surprisingly didn't like it. My life now was with Il Volo, and I felt so far away from them, like I was stuck in a reminiscence of the past that wouldn't end. I pulled my laptop back to myself over and over again, reminding myself that my life with them was real and was only taking a break.

I wanted to get back, to keep traveling and reunite with the team, which surprised me when I realized one morning in January how strongly I longed for this. Only a few months earlier I would have treasured this time and never wanted to go back, but now I knew how great the time with them could be.

And Ignazio…I remembered the days going to college and attending Harrison, before I had ever met him, and they suddenly seemed so empty to me. How could I have been so content without his laughter, his tenderness, his eager excitement? Without his constant presence, I realized how much I cared for him and missed him. I wanted him back with me so much it hurt, and I understood why he had wanted to hold me for so long the day before the Christmas Eve Extravaganza.

I was so happy whenever he called me, and we talked for a long while each time, telling the other about what was going on, and he constantly texted me to remind me that he missed me, and I would respond immediately and tell him the same.

The weeks felt so mundane to me, the same mundaneness I had felt originally when I couldn't go out to take my landscape photos on the touring. Going out to take my photos in Florida was fun, but I found myself counting down the days until the break was over so I could return to my projects and have my team and Ignazio back.

I thought of him incessantly, imagining his dimples, his bright eyes and brilliant smile, his silky dark hair, his gentle hands…

The four weeks dragged by.

At last, when I couldn't bear to sit idly at home anymore, Michele emailed me with the information for my flight to Los Angeles. A few days later, I told my parents goodbye and left for my flight back to the boys. I was ecstatic to return to them, and I eagerly boarded the plane and watched it leave behind my past Florida home. I remembered the flight to Los Angeles months before, when I first went to meet the boys and get my training from Valerie. I had been irritable and anguished to be leaving my happy life waiting for National Geographic, but now all I wanted was to be back with the boys.

National Geographic could wait; right now I had other things to do. I felt lonely on the plane without the boys, who usually sat around me and played around and sang together. Ignazio was usually beside me on plane rides, and I longed for him instead of the sleeping man who was actually beside me. I reminded myself that it wouldn't be long now until I saw him again. He had texted me and reminded me he was going to pick me up from the airport.

We landed at dusk, the sky growing dark and streaked with pink and orange. It was chilly and loud in the airport, and I was shaking with excited energy, knowing Ignazio was somewhere nearby. I got my luggage and stood in the middle of the crowded building, looking around for the handsome Italian boy. I looked from face to face, nervously adjusting my camera bag on my shoulder, not seeing him anywhere. I turned and looked around, and checked my phone to see if maybe he saw me. People bustled past me and bumped into me, and I apologized but stayed in my lookout spot in the middle of the floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down at it.

_Turn around._

My heart leaped in my chest, and I shoved it back into my coat pocket as I whirled around. Ignazio was striding toward me in the distance through the thick crowd, his face alight with a brilliant smile, his eyes shining eagerly as he came toward me. I could see him mouth my name against the roar of the crowd, and I immediately abandoned my bags and took off, racing across the floor to extinguish the distance between us. My red high-tops were flashes of color as I sprinted toward him, yelling his name, my coattails flying behind me. I laughed as he started to run toward me, reaching out his arms, and when I finally reached him I grabbed the flaps of his coat in my fists and pulled him hard toward me. I kissed him, breathless with excitement as he wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed me back, holding me warmly in his grasp. I held him to me by his coat, and when I finally pulled back to take a breath, I took his head in my hands and kissed his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. He closed his eyes, loving it, and when I released his coat and threw my arms around his shoulders, he hugged me tightly, picking me up momentarily from the ground.

"I missed you so much, Ignazio!"

"I missed you too, Tamzin!"

I closed my eyes when I felt him turn his head and kiss my neck, and then he released me and put his arm around my waist, leading me to where I had abandoned my bags in the middle of the airport floor.

After all the greetings from the team at the condos, all the welcome-backs, all the holiday stories exchanged and a reunion dinner with all of the team at Michele's condo, I sat in my own condo with Ignazio. I sat at the cabinet, nibbling on the I-missed-you cookies he had made me and watching him across the room sitting on the floor in front of the T.V. He sat cross-legged with his back to me, my laptop in front of him on the carpet so he could scroll through my new landscapes.

I couldn't see his face, but his silence showed me that he was engrossed in them, slowly admiring each one so he wouldn't miss any of the scenes I had captured.

I smiled to myself as I watched him lean back and run a hand slowly through his long hair that needed trimming. Barbara told me when he got back from Sicily he had a lengthening beard, and that she quickly demanded he shave. I smiled, still watching his back, my eyes following the slope of his shoulders in the fitted T-shirt he had been wearing under the coat now hanging by the door.

I dangled my feet from the barstool and quietly pushed off my red high-tops, letting them fall to the floor with a thud that Ignazio didn't even turn to see. He was too absorbed into my pictures, which made me smile bigger as I kept gazing at him across the room.

I slowly reached out and closed the container that held the cookies, and then cautiously placed my hand on the bar and softly set down my socked foot on the floor. Staring at him, the corner of my mouth turned up slightly, I put down my other foot and stepped down from the bar, pausing to see if he noticed. When he didn't, I sunk to the ground, cautiously getting down on my hands and knees as I stay focused on him.

Carefully, I began to inch forward, setting down a hand silently in the carpet and then pulling up my knee, lifting it so the leg of my sweatpants wouldn't drag the ground. I successfully muffled a giddy laugh as I moved closer and closer. The air was still except for the soft whooshing of the heater as I came up behind him and crouched, poised to attack in the stillness, holding my breath.

I was going to pounce on him, going to shout and leap onto his back, making him jump and let out a surprised cry that quickly turned into laughter as he pulled me off of him.

Instead, I stayed poised behind him, letting my eyes travel from the bottom of his back where his jeans began under the shirt, all the way up his spine, up in between his shoulder blades and then onto the back of his neck up to his head, to the silky dark hair.

I didn't pounce. I slowly, quietly sat back from my tigress pose onto my heels, still breathing as softly as I could. I let my gaze travel back down, down past his neck, his shoulders, his spine, to the bottom of his back again.

I raised my hand, and cautiously reached forward, moving slowly toward the fabric, until my hand slowly touched the shirt and I rested my hand on his back, feeling the warmth through the shirt.

He immediately straightened, but then quickly relaxed, not turning to look at me. He stayed completely still, letting me touch him, and I relaxed my hand, setting it more firmly on the bottom of his back. Slowly, curiously, I moved it upward, over the T-shirt, and reached forward my other hand and placed it beside it, running both my hands up his back. He stayed still, but I heard his quick exhale and moved closer to him, decreasing the space between us. I moved my hands up, over his shoulder blades and onto his neck. Goosebumps appeared under my fingers, and I smiled wide impulsively, moving my hands back down and then curiously over his broad shoulders and over his chest.

I remembered one day in early December when I was sitting on the balcony in Indianapolis, he had come up behind me and kissed my neck. It felt sweet, but strange to me, and when I had tensed up he had kissed my head and moved to sit beside me instead.

Now, I leaned forward and pressed my lips softly to his neck, my hands on his shoulders, and I glanced up at him and saw his faint smile and closed eyes. He turned his head to me, but I buried my head in his shoulder, kissing his neck again and again, and when I looked up he had closed his eyes and was smiling blissfully. I kept kissing his neck and he sighed contentedly, and I moved my hand to feel the goosebumps on the back of his neck.

I smiled and kissed him one last time, lingering there for a moment before I lifted my head and then moved my arms around his neck, hugging him from behind and laying my head against the top of his back.

"I missed you," I said softly, and then he shifted sideways a little and I let go of him as he turned, reaching for me. He moved his arm around my waist and pulled me toward him, lifting me from the floor and into his lap. I leaned back against his arm as he cuddled me in his arms like a baby, bending forward to kiss me. He held me tightly against him, kissing my lips, my cheeks, and then moving down to my neck. I closed my eyes and felt him holding me, reaching my hand up to rest against his chest.

Then I reached for his face and guided him back to my lips, kissing him for a minute before pulling back and smiling up at him. He smiled back down at me, and then I laughed suddenly, feeling exhilarated, and he laughed too and cradled my face in his hands. I reached up and he hugged me tightly, holding me gently with his warmth radiating through his shirt. I got up from his lap, kneeling in front of him to keep hugging him, and he held me quietly for several minutes.

"I love you," he said when I pulled back, and I kissed him again and sat back on my heels.

"I love you, too, Ignazio," I said, and he smiled brightly, making me smile too.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"What do you think?" Ignazio asked as I sipped the soup from the spoon.

"Good, but needs more hot sauce," I said, handing him back the spoon from across the cabinet and returning to my laptop screen.

He laughed, shaking his head.

"If it was up to you, we'd put a whole bottle of hot sauce in there!"

"Sounds good to me," I shrugged, and he laughed, turning from me to keep stirring the soup. He was making it for dinner, when the boys and I were going to watch the Grammies together in his hotel room in Philadelphia, a stop on the U.S. tour.

"How are the T-shirt sales going?" he asked, not looking up as he stirred.

"Very well," I said, looking at the sales chart on my laptop screen, but I sounded bored as I said it, and Ignazio looked up and smiled at me.

"What will your next project be?" he asked, and I rested my chin down in my hand and looked up at him.

"I don't know. That's the problem. It's already February, but I don't know what to do."

"I'm sure you'll think of something soon," he encouraged, smiling at me, and I smiled back.

"I hope so."

I sipped the broth from the bottom of my soup, not taking my eyes from the T.V. as Bruno Mars came out to sing his new pop hit. I turned my eyes to Gianluca, lowering the bowl as he clapped along with the audience.

"Bruno Mars!" he said, leaning back in satisfaction as he watched. He smiled at me when he caught me eyeing him, "I'm a big fan!"

I smiled back and let Ignazio take my bowl when he got up and passed by my chair.

"Watch, I bet he's going to sing," he whispered in my ear as he bent down to take it.

I watched Gianluca, and when Bruno Mars started to sing he jumped up and started to sing along, turning around and gesturing dramatically to Piero, who had been sitting beside him on the couch. I had chosen to sit in a chair in the corner of the room with my laptop so I could work. I had listened to them and eaten Ignazio's soup while I observed them, but I mostly kept to myself.

I laughed at Gianluca, and again when Piero jumped up to dance with him, playfully taking him around the waist and almost falling over with him as they both took the lead. I laughed from my corner, watching them, and Piero looked over at me and then broke away from Gianluca and rushed over to me. I straightened, looking up at him in surprise, and he held out his hands and moved the laptop.

"Come dance!" he said, taking my hands, and I rolled my eyes but let him pull me up. He pulled me to the center of the room, but I pulled away when he reached for my waist.

"Salsa!" I said, starting the rock-step, but he couldn't follow me and ended up just walking forward and back.

"No, no, no! You're doing it all wrong, Piero," Gianluca said, laughing at his feeble steps, and Piero laughed too.

Suddenly someone wrapped a hand around my waist and hoisted me into the air, out of Piero's reach.

"Ignazio!" I cried in surprise, and then laughed as he spun me around and set me back down in front of him.

I turned toward him and he reached out for my hands.

"Come on, my dear, let's show them how it's done! Children, observe!"

We started the dance, and I looked up smiling at Ignazio with delight as we danced forward and back in our socks. His smile was bright and energetic as he pulled me close and then spun me quickly around and caught me, making me laugh eagerly. We started moving forward and back again, quickly, to the beat of Bruno Mars' song.

"And…" Ignazio said, a playful gleam in his eye as he seized me around the waist and pulled me close to him, "Dip!"

"Ignazio!" I protested as he leaned forward with me and dipped me back, and then leaned in further and kissed me. Then we both went crashing forward as he slipped in his socks on the hardwood floor and I collapsed onto the ground. He caught himself right above me, in a push-up position with my arm still around his neck and the other on his chest, pushing him upwards. We both looked at each other in surprise, and then we laughed together and he collapsed beside me on the floor.

"I knew that was going to happen!" I exclaimed, sitting up as he gasped for air, "We're in socks, you fool!"

Piero and Gianluca were laughing too, watching us, and Gianluca said, "Somehow I don't think that's how it's done."

"Maybe not," Ignazio agreed, pushing himself up. He reached out to take my face in both of his hands, and he leaned forward and kissed me, sitting back and smiling in satisfaction, gazing at me.

"Like this!" Gianluca said, tapping Piero, and then they both jumped together and started moving forward and back, trampling on each other's toes and almost tripping over one another.

Piero reached up his hand, holding Gianluca's, and Gianluca ducked under it for a turn and they both looked to us, laughing as we watched from the floor. Then Gianluca reached out and took my hands to pull me up, and Ignazio clambered up beside me. We were all breathless and laughing, and Bruno Mars had stopped singing several minutes ago.

"And the nominees for Album of the Year are…"

We all quieted and turned to the T.V., standing still as they showed the nominees.

"I hope it's the Justin Timberlake album," Gianluca said thoughtfully, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, and Piero sat beside him and nodded.

I looked up at Ignazio, who seemed entranced as he stared forward, fixated on the screen.

"Move, Ignazio!" Piero said, reaching forward with his foot and shoving him slightly.

Ignazio broke out of his trance as he moved out of Piero's way and sat on the couch beside him. I turned to go back to my chair and my laptop, but Ignazio reached out and caught me, sitting me on his lap and moving his arms around my middle. I didn't protest, letting him hold me as the four of us waited for the announcement of the winner.

It was Justin Timberlake's album, and when they announced it Gianluca cheered with the crowd and pumped his fist in the air.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, and Piero laughed and high-fived him.

I watched as Justin ascended the stage on the screen, and reached out, smiling wide, to receive the award, a shimmering gold gramophone on a black plaque.

I silently watched the way it glittered in Justin's hand, and then I turned on Ignazio's lap to look up and catch his amazement as he watched. He stared in awe at the screen, completely silent, never taking his eyes away from the award as I looked up at him.

"American recognition. Your dream," I said softly, and he nodded, a smile breaking his quiet fascination.

"How does-" I started to ask, but he shook his head and jostled me on his knee.

"Shhh…," he hushed me, and I pulled back and raised my eyebrows at him. "I want to hear the speech, my dear," he said gently, leaning forward to quickly kiss my forehead.

I let him hush me for once, turning back to the screen, and he held me tightly around my middle, his hands warm and gentle on my sides. I leaned back against him and listened, thinking as Justin thanked the usual people: family, fans, producers, collaboration artists, mentors.

"What would we say if we won a Grammy?" Ignazio asked, and Gianluca smiled and pulled out his phone.

"We would thank these people," he said, holding it out to show Piero, Ignazio, and me.

I laughed.

"You have a list ready for when you win a Grammy?"

"Or any award," he said, smiling. "I want to memorize it, though, if I'm the one who's going to be saying it. I don't want to be one of those celebrities who reads everything off their phone."

"It's good," Piero said, reading the list, "But it's too boring."

"Boring?" Ignazio asked, "What would you say, then?"

"I don't know. I was thinking maybe doing it in a song, or cartwheeling onto the stage or something."

"I could see that, actually," I said thoughtfully, "Piero cartwheeling onto the stage in his camouflage suit to receive his Grammy."

The three of them laughed, and Ignazio kissed the back of my neck.

"What were you asking a minute ago, Tamzin?"

"How does the nomination and voting process work?"

"I think I have an article on it saved on my phone," Ignazio said, reaching into his pocket and pulling it out.

Gianluca muted the commercials on T.V., and I pulled out of Ignazio's grasp and sat on the arm of the sofa as we all waited for him to find it.

"So what happens is…" he said, finding the article and handing me his phone. "Record companies enter their recordings and music videos released during that year."

"Okay…Submission…" I said softly, emailing the article to my laptop.

"Yes. Then experts make sure everything is actually eligible, no cheating…blah, blah, blah… And then there's voting, by the judges, of course. And then…results!"

"Okay, seems simple enough…but entirely up to the judges," I observed, and then thoughtfully went to Google and searched something else. "What about the American Music Awards? How does that work?"

"I've read about it before," he said, watching me search. "It's based on the people- the music buyers, the public, not the judges."

"That'd be pretty great, wouldn't it?" Piero asked, leaning back against the couch and smiling into space. "Picked by the public to receive an award. It sounds better than a Grammy to me."

I nodded and emailed myself an article on the AMAs, then handed the phone back to Ignazio, grinning uncontrollably.

"What?" he asked, watching me and sharing my smile as he reached out and took the phone from me.

"I see those gears turning," Gianluca said playfully, reaching out and gently tapping the side of my head. "What are you coming up with?"

"I'm just thinking," I said, and turned back to the T.V. as the awards program returned to the screen. Then I jumped up and moved slowly back to my chair in the corner of the room, as if in a dream.

"Tamzin…" Ignazio called, seeming very far away, and I turned to smile at him as I sunk into the chair and pulled the laptop onto my lap. They were all staring curiously at me, and I laughed and shook my head.

"Don't mind me," I told them, turning to my laptop with an exhilarated smile on my face.

They returned to the screen, watching someone else get up to perform, and I secretly looked up and eyed them, looking from face to face.

I looked at Gianluca's handsome attentive expression, and then to Piero's sweet smile as he sang along with the performer, and then finally to Ignazio's intent gaze. I smiled, watching him.

The Grammies were picked solely by judges, so that was out of my hands. But…The AMAs were picked by the public. If only Il Volo was more well-known, they'd have a pretty good shot at getting an award. Everyone who knows of them already loves them, and so if we expanded their audience…

I smiled and opened my email, pulling up the article on the AMAs. I looked back at Ignazio and he looked over and caught my eye. He smiled, and I quickly looked away. After a moment I looked back over at him, smiling to myself, feeling myself beginning to tremble in excitement.

I had found my new project. I was going to help them get their recognition. I was going to get them their award.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I ran through the snow, my breath loud and visible in front of me as I jogged down the white Detroit street in mid-February. My red high-tops dug into the snow and then threw up a white flurry behind me. I held the freezing metal of the camera close to my chest as I panted and rushed into the hotel lobby.

My wet shoes squeaked loudly on the lobby floor as I raced through it into the elevator. The doors closed and I was alone, shivering and hearing my teeth chattering audibly. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it, rereading the text from Michele.

_Great news, Tamzin! We're having a meeting in my hotel room about it. Come if you're not too absorbed in Detroit!_

I was pretty much finished with my photography excursion anyway when I got the message, and I was eager to see the boys' excitement. I thought I already knew the news.

Wanting immediately to increase Il Volo's popularity, I secretly called in a favor to an old friend from Harrison, Jason, who had quickly grown in power in the music industry after leaving the Academy. I had enlightened him on the world of Il Volo, and he had been doing the best he could to secure the boys a spot in the California Music Festival.

The California Music Festival was an annual outdoor celebration in early March where thousands of people would gather over the course of three days to see their favorite artists perform. They always had extremely famous people performing on multiple outdoor stages, and tickets were always hard to get. I admired it for being a good photography location. A certain nearby hill offered an extensive landscape of all the gorgeous stages and mobs of fans. The place was always lavishly decorated, and I always admired the setup. It was a great opportunity for Il Volo to gain some new fans, and I had hoped eagerly that Jason would be able to accomplish his task.

My jacket was wet and making me colder, so I stripped it off and held it in my hands, shaking and waiting for the elevator doors to open. When they did, I jogged down the hallway, hearing the excited chatter from several feet away, and went into their room, not bothering to drop off my coat and camera in my own room.

"Tamzin!" Michele exclaimed when I burst into the room, "My goodness, child! Calm down!"

"What's the news?" I asked breathlessly, and Barbara smiled from where she sat beside Michele.

"Hi, Tamzin! How did your photos come out?"

I laughed, nodding eagerly as I clasped my camera to my chest.

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed, and she nodded.

"I guessed it!"

Ignazio was sitting in a chair close to the door, and he stood up and came to me, smiling, as Piero and Gianluca resumed their conversation with Michele.

"Oh, just look at these rosy cheeks!" he said, reaching out to playfully pat one. I pulled back, smiling and eyeing his hand, and he laughed and set his hand on my shoulders, feeling me shaking under his grasp. "Oh, you're so cold!" he said, his expression shifting to tenderness, and he quickly pulled off his dry jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Let's go sit by the fire."

"There's a fire?" I asked quickly, and he laughed and nodded.

We crossed the room together to the armchair close to the fireplace, and I set my coat and camera on a lamp table. Then I sat in the chair beside Ignazio, and Michele turned to me and held out his phone for me to take.

"What's this?" I asked, taking it.

On it was a picture of the most beautiful outdoor theatre I'd ever seen.

"Wow," I breathed, admiring the familiar huge stone stage with wide arches over the top, with bunches of red roses and poinsettias surrounding the bottom.

"This is one of the outdoor theatres that artists will be performing in at the California Music Festival."

"Are we going?" I asked, scrolling through the photos of the past year before handing the phone back to Michele.

"Oh, we're doing more than that!" Piero exclaimed, and I looked over at him, and then turned eagerly to Barbara and Michele.

"Il Volo's performing!?"

"Yes!" Barbara confirmed, and I laughed excitedly, beaming with secret pride for Jason, and I threw my arms happily around Ignazio, who smiled and squeezed me back.

"We've been invited to go and perform!" Gianluca said, and Michele nodded at me.

"One of the booking agents called me just this afternoon and asked if the boys could perform! It'll be a great publicity experience, and since the fronts of the stages are roped off, I'm sure we'll end up with some fantastic photos…"

"Oh, yes! Of course!" I exclaimed, jumping up to run and snatch up my camera in my eagerness, but Ignazio grabbed me and pulled me back down, laughing, onto his lap.

"Not so fast, Tamzin, it's not for two more weeks!"

"So here's our plan…" Michele said, and the boys and I quieted. "The last few concerts of the tour are all in California, so we can go and perform at the Festival during the day on Friday, and then we can stay there for a while and even spend the night in the city, and then on Saturday we can still have our scheduled evening concert in Los Angeles. You can handle that, right boys?"

"Of course!" Piero said eagerly, and Ignazio bounced me on his knee.

"I'm sure if we start slacking, Tamzin can control us!" he said, and Michele and Barbara laughed.

"I'm getting my photos whether you cooperate or not!" I warned, and he laughed and kissed my rosy cheek.

"See what I mean?"

"I think it'll be great," Michele said thoughtfully, "You can bring your music to some fresh faces, especially since it'll be televised. I think it'll drum up some free publicity for the new album we'll start recording next month."

I leaned back against Ignazio, smiling secretively and dreaming of the beautiful spring outdoor stages, with roses and poinsettias all around, and my camera around my neck…

Thinking about the Festival brought excitement to both the boys and me as we continued on the U.S. tour. They announced the news at every show, and the fans seemed ecstatic also. We had several more stops before we made it to California, and all around the snow was beginning to melt as spring approached.

I loved going out and getting photos of the changing seasons, capturing the thinning snow and the new blades of grass poking up from the cold ground. In different cities, in different states, I would disappear into the wonderlands around me, and experience what the coming spring looked and felt like for every place. I found the differences, which places were colder and which were heating up fast, and which were resistant to the coming warmth. I collected the photos and stored them on my laptop, showing them eagerly to Ignazio when he asked to see them.

I knew now what a rushed lifestyle touring contained, and I knew what was in store for me. I remembered at the very beginning of my travels with Il Volo, when I had cried because it was so much for me to handle and I was only just beginning to balance landscape photography with work, and I realized that I had become accustomed to how things worked on tour.

While the boys slept late into the mornings, I worked diligently on my laptop, managing and filing photos and beginning my new project, getting them their award. I also started thinking forward to the new CD they would begin work on in the spring.

In the present, though, I thought about the Festival and how many people would see it, both live and on T.V. I thought of the new fans it would bring, and I was determined to get amazing photos to share with the newcomers. I was excited, and I looked up the different stages online to plan where the good photo spots were, taking screenshots and highlighting the places. Nothing could hold me back from getting those shots.

We arrived in California about a week before the festival, for tour concerts throughout the state. We were already in the city where the festival was going to be several days before the actual event, but we had received no more contact from the producers since the booking agent had called Michele. Finally, when they heard that the boys were in the city, Michele was contacted and asked to go in for a meeting about the boys' performance, and he said he would be bringing them along to the meeting. The producer seemed hesitant about this, but eventually agreed, and then Michele demanded Barbara and I be allowed in also, since we were part of the executive team of Il Volo.

We drove that afternoon to their huge office building, which loomed in front of us and blocked out the sun. For once, I didn't bring my camera, as Michele said it would make me seem more "executive" for the mysterious meeting. Still, I longed to have the camera just in case we headed over to the outdoor stages, which Barbara assured me we weren't going to do, at least not that day.

She told me at the table during our team's breakfast in the hotel lobby that the producers were being very secretive, and it was very strange.

"It makes me nervous," she said, "I don't know what is so important they had to call us in for a top-secret meeting. Can't we just show up at the stages and have a normal rehearsal?"

I agreed and secretly texted Jason about it, and he responded that he did what he could and the rest was up to the executives. I thanked him for his work, but lingered anxiously on his response. As we entered the chilly office building I remembered Barbara's uneasiness and looked suspiciously around the empty gray lobby. It was unnecessarily cold inside, but I immediately refused Ignazio's sweatshirt when he offered it to me, preferring instead to stand tall and survey my surroundings curiously.

A woman came up to us after a moment and asked us who we were, which immediately grasped my attention. Why would she ask us who we were if we were going to be performing at their event later in the week? I eyed her suspiciously as Michele told her, and then she smiled and led us down a long hallway.

We passed a desk in the hallway containing a stack of brochures, and when I saw it was a list of performing artists I snatched up a copy and unfolded it.

I walked beside Ignazio, who playfully offered me his arm, but I refused it, reading over the list.

He leaned close to me and whispered, "What's the matter, Tamzin? You have a strange look on your face."

"Something's up," I whispered back.

"Like what? I assumed we're just coming to discuss when and where we'll be doing the show."

"I don't think so, Ignazio," I whispered back, crumpling the brochure in my fist.

We entered a small office where a man sat smiling at us.

"There's quite a lot of you, isn't there?" he observed as we filed in and sat in the seats in front of him. He had a bench on the side of the room where Ignazio, Piero, and I had to sit, and when Ignazio tried to get me to sit on his lap to create more space, I quietly refused, pushing his hand away and eyeing the small bald man behind the desk.

The woman who had led us in closed the door, and for a moment the room was quiet. Then the man cleared his throat and stood, reaching across the desk to shake Michele and Barbara's hands. He introduced himself to us, and then spoke about how he was glad we could come and how he was sorry for the inconvenience of the meeting.

As he spoke, Ignazio touched my hand questioningly, where I clasped the crumpled brochure, and I looked up and shook my head, moving my hand away.

"Listen guys, here's the situation," the man said, adjusting his glasses and leaning forward to speak with us. "This year was difficult for us…booking-wise. For a lot longer than we expected, we had many open spaces to fill. See, usually we look to the super-famous performers, ones we know will be sure to draw great crowds; you understand, right?"

"Sure," Michele said, nodding agreeably, but I still eyed the man suspiciously.

"Normally we fill the program like _that_-" he snapped his fingers and smiled at us. "We knew we had to fill all the spaces, and we wanted every stage to have a performance going on throughout the whole three days. This year, when we still had many open spots dangerously close to the event, we got our booking team ready to hire acts that were a little different from our usual artists-of course, acts we knew that everyone would still enjoy. One of our workers suggested Il Volo, and we were so pleased when your boys were free to come and perform, especially when we found it wasn't too much of an inconvenience because you're touring in the area anyway!"

He paused and smiled at us.

"No, it's still an inconvenience," I said, and everyone turned to me in surprise. Barbara shot me a motherly look.

"Tamzin, _hush_," she said softly, but I didn't break eye contact with the man behind the desk, who smiled uncomfortably at me.

"Anyway…" he continued nervously, and everyone turned back to him, "We were able to fill all the spots with good acts, but we still felt the show could be…well…better. That's why we were ecstatic when certain performers contacted us and said they became available for a performance. Now, we're talking singers we know will attract a lot of people! Artists who would really…pump up the energy level, you know? See, you can understand why we'd be excited, and we told them that we'd absolutely make sure they got to perform! But this creates a situation for us, for _you_, also, that is…a little unfortunate… The fact that we are having this meeting is a tad awkward, actually…"

"You're cutting Il Volo out of the Festival," I said coldly, and everyone turned to me again. This time Barbara didn't shush me, and they all stared at me for a moment, even the man behind the desk.

I kept my eye contact with him as I reached out and slapped the crumpled brochure down on the edge of his desk.

"Maybe you should have contacted us before the final decisions were made and you printed the brochure, you know- the one where you left Il Volo's name off the list of performers…or this wouldn't be quite so- how did you phrase it? "A tad awkward…" "

I leaned back slowly, leaving the crumpled brochure on the desk, and no one chastised me as they turned back to the man.

"This can't be true," Michele said, and the producer stared nervously at him. "No, see, you called us and asked us to perform, and we said yes. Now you must let us perform."

"I'm sorry. Another artist has taken your place. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"Well, reschedule it!" Michele said sharply, "You can't do this!"

"We've been looking forward to this for weeks!" Gianluca insisted, and Piero nodded, getting to his feet.

"You can't just cancel this on us!" Piero said indignantly, and Michele snapped his fingers at Piero, who grudgingly sat back down.

"There must be something you can do," Michele said, "Let's try to work something out. Do you think the crowd would prefer shorter performances, with more artists? Or is there a group you feel their arrival is…questionable?"

"No. You must leave now. This meeting is over."

"I can't believe this," Ignazio said, and for the first time since our arrival at the building I took my focus off the situation around me and turned to him. I reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be alright," I encouraged him, "Michele will compromise. He'll get you to perform. They can't tell us you're going to perform and then tell you that you're not. Besides, all your fans expect you to be there. They have to let you perform! They have to!"

He nodded, still looking anxious, and I ran my hand soothingly down his back and up again.

"I hope you're right, Tamzin," Piero said from the other side of Ignazio, looking angrily at the man behind the desk.

Gianluca got out of his chair and moved around Barbara, distancing himself from the discussion as he came to kneel beside us on the floor.

"Michele will fix it," I said, reaching down to put my hand on his shoulder too, and he looked up at me and smiled unconvincingly.

The four of us looked up suddenly as the office fell silent, with Michele sitting close to the desk, he and the producer stuck in an intense stare.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do," the man said, and Barbara shook her head and rolled her eyes.

We waited quietly for Michele to say something.

At last, he sighed and stood, pushing back his chair, and we all followed his movement with our eyes.

"Let's go, boys," he said sharply, and I jumped up.

"What!? Michele!?"

"Tamzin, it's time for us to go," he snapped, and I shook my head.

"No, they can't do this! You can't let them off so quickly! We're not leaving until we have a spot in the venue!"

"Tamzin!" he said again, and Ignazio reached up and grasped my elbow. I yanked my arm away and strode up to the desk.

"Tamzin!" Barbara warned, but I slammed down my palms on the desk, glaring fiercely into the man's face.

"Who did you replace them with!?"

"It doesn't-"

"Oh, don't give me that! You had a spot picked out for Il Volo, and you replaced them. Who did you replace them with!?"

"Well, if you really want to know, KeSha."

"Tamzin, that's enough!"

"KESHA!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? YOU PICKED _KESHA_ OVER IL VOLO!?"

I was raising my voice now, and the room was dead silent except for my reprimands and the producer's shaky responses.

"I'm sorry if you feel-"

"Like you cheated us!? Yeah, I do! Il Volo is not a temporary spot-filler! You can't do this! You are going to let them perform!"

The boys stared at me, stunned, and Michele stepped forward and grabbed my arm, pulling me back, but I wriggled and broke from his grasp.

"No, I'm not letting this happen! The fans are expecting to see Il Volo!"

"Sorry," he said, and I slammed my fist indignantly on the desk again, making him jump and lean back as I leaned forward. "Do I have to call someone?" he threatened Michele around the desk.

"_Yes. Jason_," I hissed where only he could hear, and he leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"He may be able to suggest acts, but he has no power to secure the final lineup. I'm sorry"

"Ignazio!" Michele commanded.

"Sorry isn't good enough!" I said slowly, demanding his full attention, and immediately felt Ignazio's hands around my waist. "You better find a way to-"

I was hoisted suddenly into the air, and I yelped in surprise and then kicked and squirmed, glaring down at the desk.

"IGNAZIO, PUT ME DOWN!" I screeched, kicking him in the shins.

"Tamzin, cut it out!" he cried, tightening his grip as he pulled me backwards, and I struggled to get away from him.

"Quite a feisty intern you've got there," the producer said cockily when he saw Ignazio had a good hold of me, leaning back and raising his eyebrows at Michele.

"I'M THE PHOTOGRAPHER!" I yelled, momentarily jumping away from Ignazio and snatching up the brochure to throw back in his face.

Immediately I was caught back up in Ignazio's grip, and he pulled me backwards into the hallway.

"Piero!" he called, and Piero bounded out after us and clamped a hand over my mouth as I opened it to scream at Ignazio.

Ignazio set me down on the ground, and I lunged back at the office, only to be seized by Piero and Ignazio again.

"Tamzin, listen!" Piero tried to reason, and Ignazio shook his head.

"Reasoning with a raging Tamzin Montgomery doesn't work," he said, right before he spun me around and picked me up again, throwing me over him shoulder.

"Ignazio!" I yelled in fury, slamming my fists hard into his back, and he set off quickly down the hallway, carrying me away from the office as I kicked and struggled and yelled down the hallway, "You lying, cheating little-!"

"Tamzin, relax!" Ignazio yelled over me, carrying me through the lobby and past the startled receptionist. He carried me outside and around the side of the building, setting me down hard on the cement. I glared up at him, eyes blazing fiercely, and he looked concernedly back at me. Anger bubbled in my chest, and my hand shot toward his face, but he immediately grabbed my wrist in his hand, expertly spinning me around and pulling me against him, trapping me.

I squirmed, but he held me too tightly for me to get away.

"Ignazio!" I cried.

"Tamzin, calm down! You need to relax!"

"They can't do that!"

"You're right! It's wrong of them, I know!"

"Michele gave up too easily!"

"He did what he could!"

"Let go of me, Ignazio!"

"Will you run away?"

"I'm going to go back in there and get you a performance!"

"Then no!"

I struggled again, and he held me tightly as I thrashed around and tried to pull away.

"Ignazio!"

He didn't respond, and finally realizing I couldn't get away, I sighed a long, angry sigh and then went limp like a child, becoming deadweight in his arms. He leaned over and gently sat me down on the cement. I crossed my arms, glaring fiercely down at my red high-tops.

He released me and stepped around me, crouching down in front of me. He reached out a hand and placed it gently on my head.

"Tamzin."

I looked up at him indignantly, and then froze, gazing into his sweet brown concerned eyes. I gulped, and then felt my eyes grow wet.

"I wanted to fix it," I said, and he nodded, letting his hand drop to his side. "I wanted to get you that performance!"

"I understand. It's okay, Tamzin."

"I wanted you to have your show, and get your new fans, and I wanted to get my pictures. I wasn't going to let anything stand in my way, but-Ugh, I feel so helpless!" I exclaimed.

I tensed up, my hands balling into fists, and he quickly reached out and took my fists in his hands.

I looked up into his eyes again, then released my fists and sighed.

"Maybe I could have made him give you a show, if you hadn't stopped me."

"Maybe you could have, Tamzin," he said, and I looked up at him in surprise at his agreement. "But that's not how we want to do things. If they don't want us, then we're not going to perform. That's why Michele told us to leave. He didn't want us to have to fight for our spot."

A tear rolled down my cheek, and Ignazio reached out and gently rubbed it away with his thumb.

"It's not fair," I whispered tearfully, and he nodded, looking somber.

"You're right. It's not fair."

He sat beside me on the cement, looking down at me and watching as more tears rolled down my cheeks. I looked up at him, and then suddenly felt very pathetic and buried my face in his sleeve.

He put his arm around me, and when I looked up at him he wiped away my tears and leaned forward to kiss my cheeks where the tears had been.

I sniffed, trying to stop crying and being so helpless, and I pulled up my knees, crossed my arms over them, and leaned forward to rest my chin on them. Ignazio placed his hand gently on my back and rubbed it softly, up and down, as I stared somberly into the distance.

"This time we can't fix it," he said gently, "Maybe next time, but this time, just let it be. Let them have their way this time."

I nodded slowly.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," I said, softly, and his hand stopped and stayed in one place on my back.

"Tamzin? I have to ask, though, did you…do anything to help us get this opportunity?" I looked up at him in surprise, and he nodded. "I thought you might have. You weren't as surprised as I thought you would be when Michele told you. And you were fighting so hard just now…Not that you wouldn't fight just as hard otherwise, but I just wondered about it."

"I…thought it would be a good promotion."

"It would have been. Thank you, Tamzin." He leaned toward me and kissed my cheek.

"Can we keep it a secret?" I asked. "The others seem so happy just to be asked, and I don't want them to think I had a part in it."

"Sure, Tamzin."

"It's just a shame it didn't actually happen, though," I said sadly, resting my chin on my knees again.

"Tamzin."

I peered up at him, and he smiled gently.

_"Although a tear may be ever so near…That's the time you must keep on trying…Smile…"_

I rolled my eyes at the song, but then his expectant smile made me smile too.

"Aha!" he said, reaching out to cup my face in his hand. "There we go!"

He leaned forward and gently kissed my lips, and then the top of my head.

"Are you ready to go back to the others?"

"No way!"

"Will you do it anyway?"

I sighed, and then nodded.

"My little tigress," he murmured, and I clambered to my feet when he did.

He stepped close to me and offered me his arm for support, but I shook my head and wiped my eyes with my hands.

"No. I'll walk out on my own."

He smiled and nodded, dropping his arm, but leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

Then I took a breath, and we walked around the building together, finding the others standing around the car.

They all looked up and smiled at Ignazio and me, and I averted my eyes but kept my head up.

We walked right up to the car, and Michele came around to stand beside me.

"I did what I could? Understand?" his voice was gentle, but firm, and I nodded.

"I'm sorry."

He nodded, and then that was all. We got into the car and I sat next to the window, leaning against it and staring at the passing cars. I pulled out my phone and texted Jason,

_We didn't get a spot. Thanks anyway._

Then I leaned my head against the window again, and after a minute Ignazio rested his hand comfortingly on my back. I didn't shrug him off, closing my eyes instead to feel his touch.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I could hear the sounds of laughter coming from inside the condo behind me, and I turned from where I sat alone on the porch to peer up through the window. I could see the boys in Ignazio's condo's living room, eating their cake and laughing as they talked and joked with Barbara and Michele. They had just finished the last concert of their tour, which to them called for a late-night celebration in the condos. Ignazio had insisted on making a cake, and they were singing and dancing and joking around as they shared it, still wearing their suits and ties from earlier in the evening.

I smiled when I saw Ignazio's bright smile as he hugged Barbara, and then I turned away and faced the night in front of me.

Apart from the commotion inside the condo, it was quiet outside on the porch, with only the occasional rustle of wildlife to disturb the peace. The porch light was dim, flickering occasionally and throwing me into darkness. I looked down at the box in my lap, reaching inside to place my hand on the cool cover of the magazine on top. I wrapped my fingers around it pulled out the several issues of National Geographic, setting the cardboard box down on the step in front of me and holding the magazines in my lap.

I opened the one on top and slowly flipped through it, admiring the pictures and thinking as I ran my thumb along the skylines, the waterlines, the horizons in the breathtaking photos. I imaged my own photos in the pages, and gently ran my fingers along the paper, hearing the soft sound it made.

My mom had collected the past few issues for me, since I couldn't have them sent to myself with our constant traveling. She had mailed them to Barbara's condo, and Barbara gave them to me in the midst of our end-of-tour celebration.

I sat alone, having stolen away from the party with the magazines, and sat admiring them in the dim lighting, thinking as I traced the settings with my fingers.

I smiled as I turned to pictures of New York in the wintertime, where I had taken pictures only weeks earlier. Mine were just as good as the ones in the magazine, and I suddenly felt excitement within me as I imagined my own photos in the pages, my own name in teeny print below them.

"Brilliant," I whispered into the darkness, quietly flipping the page. I thought about going to work for National Geographic as their photographer, my dream. But tonight, as the Il Volo boys celebrated just behind me, the dream seemed so strange and distant.

I hadn't gotten my hands on a new National Geographic issue since I started working with Il Volo, meaning these should be especially precious to me. But as I continued to flip through them, I felt a little somber, remembering my beginning days with Il Volo when I lived only to take my landscapes and thought of the boys as a distraction. I shook my head, looking up from the pages and into the darkness, quietly staring into the space in front of me.

After a moment of quiet, the door behind me jerked open and I jumped, turning and looking up into the bright light of the condo.

I raised my hand to shield my eyes, and watched as Ignazio stepped outside and shut the door more quietly behind him.

I turned forward again and he came to the steps and lowered himself down beside me, setting down his drink beside him. He looked down at the magazines in my lap and smiled at me.

"_Your_ dream," he said, and I nodded.

"My mom sent them to Barbara. She just gave them to me."

Ignazio moved closer to me, and I adjusted the book so he could see the image it was open to, a stunning African sunset.

"Wow," he breathed, and I nodded.

"Watch," I said, flipping back a few pages and tilting the book to him. "I went to school with the girl who took these. Eve is her name."

I looked down somberly at the photos, and reached up to trace the outline of the people walking home from fields in the fading light of day.

"They're good," I said softly, and he watched my face, staying quiet. "Now I see why they wanted her."

I looked up at him and saw he was watching me intently.

"They wanted her when they came to Harrison. They chose her over me. I was so mad. That was the only job I wanted, and I didn't want anything else!"

"Then…why did you take this one?" he asked, and I looked away in embarrassment. "You can tell me."

"Because I had to," I said very softly. "I had already refused an assignment the year before because I was holding back to train for National Geographic, and I had to take a job."

He nodded, looking down at the magazine, and I reached out and touched his arm, making him look up at me.

"But I'm glad I took the job now, Ignazio! I really am!"

He smiled and nodded, leaning forward to kiss my cheek reassuringly.

"It's okay, Tamzin, I believe you."

I smiled, and then looked down at the magazine.

"When I went home for Christmas, I spent a lot of time at Harrison, and Mr. Masters told me he heard they need some new photographers, and that they would be coming back to the Academy this year."

"If they offer you a job in August, you'd go, wouldn't you?" he asked quietly, and I looked up at him for a moment, quietly sharing his gaze.

"I…that's such a long way away, Ignazio!" I said, shaking my head quickly. "I have other things to things to think about for now."

I reached out and playfully took his face in my hand, and he smiled and took my hand and kissed it.

"I can imagine your pictures in here," he said, reaching down to pick up the magazine and flip through the pages.

"Me too," I said, and he smiled.

"I think they'd be lucky to have you as their photographer," he said, looking up at me and smiling, his eyes sweet and gentle. "You always find the most beautiful places." I looked up into his eyes, and then reached out and took the magazine from him, flipping it shut and placing it on top of the others. I reached down for the box and opened the flaps, dropping the magazines in and then setting them down beside me on the porch.

"I'll look at them later," I said, turning to look back at him, and he smiled slightly, gazing at me. I looked out into the night, and then jumped up suddenly. "Ignazio, can we go for a walk? I have something to show you."

"What? Tamzin, it's past midnight!"

I gave him a look and pointed into the window of his condo at the revelry inside.

"Are you planning on sleeping through _that_?"

He laughed.

"Okay, you've got a point." He stood up, pulling down the vest of his suit and readjusting his bow-tie. "But we can't go far, alright?"

I nodded.

"Let me change my shoes," he said, looking down at his black dress-shoes.

I nodded again, and he went back into the house. I waited on the porch, pushing the box into a corner to get later.

After a moment he showed up wearing his suit with large blue tennis shoes. I laughed softly, looking him up and down.

"Funny match," I said, and he took a dramatic bow to make me laugh again. Then I took his arm and tugged gently.

"Come on, let's go!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

I went quickly down the steps, and turned as I waited for him to follow. He came down and walked beside me as I led him away from the condo and down the secluded, empty street. I walked briskly, and he kept up with me as best as he could, our shoes flashing red and blue as we hurried forward.

"Where are we going?" he asked, and I shook my head, "You'll see."

I led him away off of the street and further and further away from the condo.

"You said it wasn't too far away," he said, and I nodded.

"It's not much farther. Hang on."

As we got closer, I got excited and started to jog, and Ignazio laughed and started also, keeping up with me as we ran over a long sandy expanse.

"Here," I said, coming to a patch of trees along the edge of the sand. I grabbed a branch and hoisted myself up into the tree.

"Be careful, Tamzin!" Ignazio said in surprise, looking up at me and reaching up quickly as if to catch me.

"Of course!" I said, pulling myself up higher, and then I turned and looked down. "Aren't you coming?"

He smiled and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Of course, Tamzin. Yes, I will climb a tree with you at past midnight on a Friday, in my suit and tie and tennis shoes."

"Why, thank you," I said from high up in the tree, and when I peered back down he was climbing up after me. I stepped out onto a branch high up over the sand, and held onto the one above it as I inched along.

I sat down on the thick limb, looking out in front of me and waiting eagerly for Ignazio to come.

"Are you sure this is safe?" he asked, looking uneasily at the branch I was sitting on.

"Sure," I said, shrugging, and he rolled his eyes dramatically again, making me laugh.

"If you say so, Tamzin," he joked as he inched onto the branch beside me. He sat next to me, cautiously gripping the one above us with both hands.

"Look," I said, pointing, and he followed my hand and then fell silent, the look of wonder I loved appearing in his bright eyes.

"Isn't it brilliant?" I asked, turning and looking forward. Ahead of us was a long expanse of sand, with the ocean far away into the distance. Below us was a fence that I forced out of view by climbing, giving way to the stretch of rock piles in front of it that caught the water that flowed into the dip in the land and kept it there. Far into the distance were huge, rolling California hills, topped with tiny lit mansions and backed by even larger hills, black against the night sky.

"It's beautiful…" Ignazio breathed, and I laughed suddenly, making him smile.

"You should see it at sunrise," I said thoughtfully, stretching my arm out over it and pointing. "I especially love how the land dips down like that to hold that thin stretch of water, and the rocks nearby keep it all in. I love that they're all different shades of gray and brown, and they contrast the pink and orange of the sky in the early morning. And the little houses, no matter how hard they try, cannot dominate the huge black mountains rising up into the huge sky. And the people who come out onto the beach are still smaller from here than all the mountains, all the houses, and even all those rocks."

I turned to Ignazio, who was staring at me, a faint smile on his lips.

"That's beautiful, Tamzin. I can't believe how you just…find all this!"

"I guess you've got to know where to look," I said, shrugging, and he smiled and looked down.

"And be willing to climb trees."

I laughed, and nodded.

"And be willing to climb trees."

He was quiet, staring out at the scene before us.

"Thank you, Tamzin," he said after a moment, "You know, I always find that beauty is more precious when you share it with someone else."

I nodded, looking out at the hills in the distance.

"When I started working with you guys, I tried to keep all my landscapes to myself."

"I remember," he said softly, and I nodded.

"Even though sometimes I would hide them and try to keep them all for myself, I think now it's better to share them. They were always beauty meant to be shared."

"You want to share them like the photos in the magazines?"

I nodded.

"I want to share the beauty of things within the world."

He turned and smiled at me, and then leaned toward me to kiss my cheek, but I turned my head and kissed his lips.

He pulled back after a moment, smiling, and peered over the edge of the branch.

"Are you ready to go back, Tamzin?"

"Are you?"

"I'm ready to get down, but I don't want to go back yet."

"Okay."

He reached up for the overhead branch and worked his way back to the tree trunk, starting his descent. I followed him nimbly, and when he got to the ground he reached up and placed a hand on my back, as if uneasy I would fall.

I jumped down from the trunk onto the ground, and looked up at him, smiling, when he took my hand and raised it to his lips.

"We're out on the beach, my dear; we might as well walk along the sand."

I shrugged and nodded, and we started to walk slowly along, swinging our interlocked hands and looking out at the water in the distance.

"I have some good news for you," Ignazio said, smiling at me.

"Yeah?"

"For the next two weeks or so, we're going to be working on the beginnings of a new CD, going over the music, just getting a feel for the album, you know?"

I nodded.

"Michele says that means you can take a break and go home to Florida during that time."

"What!? No!" I looked up sharply at him, stunned, and he looked surprised at me, trying to read my expression.

"What's wrong!?"

"I just went home, Ignazio! I don't want to go back! I want to be here!"

I stepped forward and threw my arms around him suddenly, surprising him. He quickly wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly.

"What's wrong, my dear? I thought you'd be happy. You'll have some more time to get some good landscapes."

"No, Ignazio!" I said forcefully, holding him tightly, "I have enough time now! With you guys! There are others things for me to do now then try to get away from you guys all the time. I don't want to leave!"

I pulled back, shaking my head, my hands on his shoulders.

"It's okay!" he said, taking my face in his hands. "It's only if you want to. You don't have to go."

"I don't want to go! I have things to do here! I'm a part of your team!"

"You're right, Tamzin, it's okay! You don't have to go!"

I sighed, and then nodded.

"Okay."

He kissed me, and then pulled me into a hug.

"I'm glad, Tamzin. I didn't want you to go either. I'd miss you again!"

I pulled back, resting my hands on his chest, and he kissed me for a long moment.

"Christmas break was boring," I admitted as we started walking again and he put his arm gently around my waist. "My life now is you guys! There's not much for me to do on my own other than the landscapes, and I'd rather do that while traveling with you. Plus, I have a new project."

My project of getting them their award required several sub-projects, and I had already dreamed up the first one. He smiled eagerly.

"Oh? Do tell."

"Not yet," I said firmly, shaking my head, and he smiled playfully and then dropped to his knee in the sand, pouting dramatically as he begged for hints.

"Not yet, Ignazio! Soon, I promise!"

I laughed and shook my head, and he laughed with me and got up when I tugged on him.

"You'll find out soon enough," I reassured him, "I just need to talk to Michele."

We walked along the beach, holding hands, and I smiled when he started to sing, _"Beautiful Day! Don't let it get away! Beautiful Da-ay!"_

I smiled and looked up at him, "Technically, it has gotten away. It's about one A.M., so it's Sunday now."

He laughed and shook his head, and then stopped walking and looked around.

"Are you checking to see if anyone is watching us at one A.M.?" I asked, and he smiled and pulled me close, enveloping me in himself. His arms went around my back, and I rested my hands on his chest.

"I wanted to do this before we got back to the condo," he said, and then leaned forward and kissed me, tenderly and lingeringly, and I closed my eyes and pressed my palms against his vest. He kept kissing me, and I felt warm inside as he held me tightly to him and kissed me in the early morning. I reached up my hands through his silky hair as I kissed him back, and he sighed softly as I ran my hands over his shoulders and back down to his chest.

Then he pulled back and smiled at me, and closed his eyes again when I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned forward to keep kissing him.

After a few more moments I pulled back and smiled at him eagerly, and he released me, but kept an arm around my waist, keeping me against his side as we turned and started walking back to the condos.

He stated to sing again, and I closed my eyes and let him guide me as I listened blindly to his handsome voice echoing into the dark night sky.

_"Questo amore splendido…Questo immenso senso di felicita…Lo devo solo a te…"_


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"Michele, I need to talk to you," I called, finding the door to his condo unlocked and going inside. I found him sitting at a desk in the corner of the room, and he turned in his wheeled chair and smiled.

"Yes, please come in, Tamzin," he teased, and I strode across the room, my camera bouncing lightly against me and sending a jolt of energy through me as I remembered my plan. I pulled up a chair next to his desk and sat, taking off my camera and holding it in my lap.

"Okay, so you know that short documentary that you had made about putting together the PBS special for "We Are Love?" "

"Of course," he said, tapping his pen in his palm. "Where they videoed us setting up and interviewed us about the concert."

"Exactly! It was great! The fans loved it! They loved having a peek into the background, how things get put together and how the plans are carried out! I posted some clips of it online again, just bringing it again to the attention of the Il Volovers, and they loved it! They all had good things to say about it, and some of them said they'd love to see another documentary made!"

"Yes…" he said, nodding, and I smiled, seeing I had his full attention. He waited for me to continue, and I set aside my camera on the desk and sat up straighter. "So don't you think the fans would love to see a documentary about how an Il Volo album is put together!? They'd get to see the process, see them at work in the studio…"

"Uh-oh, what am I agreeing to here?" he asked, and I smiled.

"I want to have a documentary made about the album-making process, and what better time than now, as you start on this CD!?"

"Tamzin," he sighed, and I paused, my hands in the air in front of me, illustrating my vision. "It sounds nice, but I'm not sure about this. The other one was expensive, and kind of a pain to have made. There was so much editing we had to be present for, and the company we hired got in the way of our working. Plus, that documentary was filmed in a very short period of time, and one about the album-making process would span the whole time we're putting together the album. I'm not sure if we could find a company that would-"

"I'll make it."

His voice faltered, and he raised his eyebrows at me, and then leaned back in his chair, watching me.

"You want to make it?"

"Yes! I took film classes at Harrison, and I want to try to put together this documentary. My camera is a film-camera too, not just photography, and I want to do this!"

He sighed, tapping his pen in his palm again as he observed me.

"Tamzin, I don't think you know what you're getting into."

"Maybe not. But I want to run with it!"

"We might not use it, though, if you make it."

"I know. I've taken that into account. But if it's good, then you'll want it, at least to put online or something. And it'll be good, I promise you!"

"Okay, but just know that I can't guarantee we'll use it."

"I can't guarantee I'll listen to you if you tell me not to make it."

He raised his eyebrows, stopping the rapping of the pen in his palm and studying my face.

"I'm taking care of my responsibilities, Michele, and I need a new project to focus on. You thought I'd like to go home for a while, but I want to do this instead! Give me this project!"

He was quiet, watching me and thinking, and then he slowly nodded and leaned forward, reaching out his hand to take mine and squeeze it gently in his.

"Okay…Go for it."

I immediately jumped up, grabbed my camera, and was gone, laughing excitedly as I dashed back out the condo, hearing him laughing behind me.

"Okay, first day of official recording!" I said excitedly as I stood on the steps of Ignazio's condo, filming him coming outside.

He smiled sleepily at me as he reached back inside and grabbed his mug of coffee from the cabinet. Then he shut the front door behind him and came down the steps, as I backed up to keep him in the frame.

"So how do you feel?" I asked, and he smiled sweetly at the camera as he approached me.

"Like I want my good-morning kiss- or am I not allowed to say that on camera?"

"You can say whatever you want. I'm editing it after," I reassured him, dropping the camera to my side to lean forward and kiss him.

"You'll have quite a bit of film to sift through after we're done. It's mid-March now, so you'll have…about a million hours of film," he remarked as he let me take his coffee from him and sip it.

"I'm game," I shrugged, smiling as I handed him back the mug. I stepped back and raised the camera again. "I'll also try to stay out of the way as much as possible, but I'm being very paparazzi-ish today because it's the first day of recording."

"It's okay, Tamzin," he said, and then he smiled playfully and struck a dramatic pose, "I'm used to the cameras."

I laughed.

"Then tell me, now that you've gotten your good-morning kiss, how do you feel about today?"

He held up a finger, and then leaned over and set the coffee on the pavement, turning and running back up the condo steps.

"I feel excited!" he said, and then he ran forward and jumped off the step, clicking his heels together and smiling brilliantly before he landed.

"Nice!" I said, and he took a dramatic bow and picked up his coffee again, raising it in a toast to the camera.

"To the first day of recording and documentary-filming!"

"So how does this work?" I asked, sitting with the boys on a small couch in a cramped recording studio. The producers who had come in sat at a huge switchboard, getting things ready for the recording.

"First, we each sing acapella the whole song we're trying to record," Ignazio explained, flipping through a page of lyrics in his lap. "Then the producers decide which parts we sang the best, and we add harmonies and practice it, and practice it, and practice it, and practice it, and practice it…"

I laughed, and Gianluca leaned forward to catch my eye.

"Seriously, though," he agreed, "It's intense."

"Okay!" one of the producers, whose name was Humberto Gatica, said, shushing the four of us. "Let's begin!"

Ignazio applauded, and Gatica laughed and pointed at him. "Okay, Ignazio, you can go first. Into the booth you go."

He stood and made his away across the room, and went into the little sound booth, going to adjust his microphone and his music sheet.

"Documentary girl- Tamzin, was it?" he asked, and I nodded. "I love this idea about making a documentary of the album production. You're welcome to film in the booth, if you want."

"Really?" Ignazio called eagerly from inside the booth, and I laughed.

"Really," Gatica said, holding up his hand as I jumped up, "But…you must be…"

"Absolutely silent," I assured him, as he put a finger to his lips and nodded.

"And no distracting Ignazio, though I'm sure Piero will find a way to do that before you do…"

He shot Piero a look, and he laughed and made a face.

"They just love to play around," he said, shaking his head at me.

"It'll make some good shots," I shrugged, slinging my camera over my shoulder.

"At least some good will come of it. In you go. Silence."

I nodded and went to the sound booth, stepping into the tiny soundproof room and closing the door cautiously behind me.

"Tamzin!" Ignazio shouted, breaking the silence and startling me as he bounded forward and scooped me up from the floor, holding me up and beaming up at me.

"Ignazio!" I said, shaking my head. "You have to sing!"

"I know, I know."

He turned and carried me over to the mic, setting me down beside it. "Okay," he said, putting his arm around me, "Now that I have my Tamzin, we can start!"

"Nope," I said, ducking out from under his arm and patting his cheek chasteningly. "I am not here. I'm just going to sit in the corner all day and record you and Piero and Gianluca singing…and be _absolutely silent_…"

I raised a finger to my lips, and he repeated my gesture, smiling playfully as he leaned his forehead against mine.

"Not you! You sing!" I instructed, and when he laughed and nodded I stepped away from him and went to the chair in the corner. I sat and held up my camera, focusing it on Ignazio and waiting.

"Okay, Ignazio! Ready!" the other producer, Tony Renis called, and Ignazio slid a set of headphones over his ears and stepped closer to the microphone, taking a breath and beginning his beautiful rendition of a traditional American song.

I sat silently in the corner, filming as Ignazio and Piero and finally Gianluca came into the booth and sang their renditions of the song. I sat listening blissfully to their beautiful voices, in my own quiet realm of photography. I was tucked away in my corner, like a fly on the wall, taking it all in as they conducted their recordings. The producers paid no attention to me, allowing me to sit quietly in the middle of the activity and capture it all on the camera. I expected the boys to pretend I wasn't there as well, but as they sang, they watched me and sang to me, especially Ignazio, who hardly ever looked away from me as he sang. All morning I sat in my spot in the corner, until they gathered together outside of the booth to listen to the recordings and decide who would sing what. It was dizzying how many times they listened to the recordings, but I was too busy filming to be bored. I pictured the documentary coming together, and I shifted and silently turned to capture the best angles I could from where I sat, documenting all the action as it happened.

At the end of the day, when we drove to the condos at dusk, Michele turned to me in the car I was riding shotgun in with him, Ignazio, Piero, and Gianluca and smiled.

"How's the filming? Are you bored with it yet?"

"Oh, no Michele!" I exclaimed, clasping my camera to my chest. "I love it!"

"Do you?"

"It's brilliant! I've never actually filmed any projects before, but the angles on the film look great! I can't believe I'm making a documentary! Oh, it's so great! This is so much fun, Michele; I can't wait for you to see it!"

I laughed, and the boys in the backseat laughed at my excitement.

"She's like a little mouse," Piero told Michele, leaning forward and poking his head in between our seats. "She's absolutely silent in the corner, just observing us and filming everything we do!"

"Oh, but have you been watching her back!?" Ignazio asked him, leaning forward beside me to kiss my cheek when I turned and smiled at him. "She's so happy! You just put a camera in her hands and she's on a roll, creating, inventing, running off with whatever project she's created!"

I laughed and nodded eagerly at him, and he kissed my cheek again.

We pulled up in front of the condos, and when Michele parked we all climbed out the car.

"Come on, I want to walk you home," Ignazio said, moving his arm warmly around my shoulders, and I nodded and walked with him away from the car.

"Oh, Tamzin," he breathed as we left the others behind us. "All day that spark's been in your eye. You've been silent and sitting in the corner, but you look so exhilarated!"

"It's so exciting!" I cried, looking up at him, and then leaping away to stand in front of him. "Ignazio, I'm single-handedly filming a documentary!"

We laughed together, and then he jumped forward and cupped my head in his hands, kissing me, before we turned and continued toward the condo.

I ran forward, ahead of him, and he jogged behind me, following me down the pathway and up the condo steps. When I reached the top I turned and waited breathlessly a moment for him to catch up.

"Let me see?" he asked, reaching for the camera, and I cautiously pulled it off and placed it slowly into his hand. He turned and simply hung it on the handle of my door, turning back to me and smiling playfully.

He reached out and pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly as we both breathed heavily from the running. He held me to him and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling his intake of breath and wrapping my arms around his back.

We were quiet, looking out into the darkening sky, and then I felt him kiss the top of my head.

"I love you, Tamzin."

"I love you too, Ignazio."

I looked up and caught him closing his eyes as I said it, and I quickly kissed him, surprising him.

He opened his eyes and smiled when I pulled back, and then I felt his arms around my waist and he lifted me up to sit on the railing of the porch, his hands around my back to keep me from falling.

I reached up and took his head in my hands and pulled him toward me, and he quickly moved closer and kissed me, his hands keeping me secure.

He moved even closer so that he was against the railing too, against me, and I let my hand slip down to his chest, feeling his warmth under the T-shirt he wore. He pulled back and smiled at me, his smile bright and energetic. He leaned his forehead again mine, his expression turning to a tender gaze, and he kissed the top of my head and then pulled back to look at me.

"Goodnight, Tamzin," he said, and I smiled.

"It's still early in the evening, Ignazio."

He smiled and shook his head.

"Not for me. I'm so tired!"

I smiled and reached up to pull him back to me so I could kiss him again, and then I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"Then goodnight, Ignazio. Sleep well."

"I will, Tamzin. You too, okay? Today was your first full day in the studio, and you need to be ready to go back and have another tomorrow. Make sure you go to bed soon, alright?"

"I will, I will."

"Get some rest, and have sweet dreams."

I nodded, and he leaned forward and kissed me again for a long moment, then stepped back and lifted me carefully from the railing and set me down on the porch.

I went to the front door and unlocked it, taking my camera from the doorknob and slinging it over my shoulder. I stepped inside and turned to him, putting a hand on the door to close it.

"One more!" he said, and then came forward and rested his hand on the door as he leaned into me and kissed me one last time. Then he stepped back and smiled happily at me.

"Goodnight."

He walked backwards as I slowly closed the door, watching me until the very last second.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

When the fan kicked in and the gentle whirring filled the room, I groggily opened my eyes and stared into the darkness before me. I closed my eyes again and turned slowly onto my side, curling up and slipping my hand under the pillow. I lay there for a moment, listening to the whirring as I tried to drift back to sleep.

Then I sighed and kicked the covers off. After having been refusing to get up for several hours, I was _still _thirsty and finally ready to give in and go the kitchen. I sleepily sat up in the bed and peered at the bright alarm clock on the bedside table.

Two A.M., a time excellent for sleeping.

I glared at the clock for a moment before turning away and setting my bare feet down on the cold hardwood floor. I winced as the cold jolted through my feet, and then I got up and slowly walked out of the bedroom into the hallway, trailing my hand on the wall so I would know where I was.

I left the lights off as I walked cautiously through the living room and into the kitchen, feeling my way in the darkness as I firmly decided I would get my drink without the help of any light.

That is, until I tripped over something in the kitchen and stumbled forward, slamming my hands down onto the cabinet to catch myself.

I gasped and froze, frantically wondering what was on the floor. I stepped forward and reached out for the oven, fingering for the nightlight. I clicked it on and held up my hand to shield my eyes as the bright blue light penetrated the condo.

I groaned and turned away from the oven to see the brown cardboard box sitting nonchalantly on the floor. I stared at it for a moment as it suddenly occurred to me how long I had left it sitting there in the midst of the kitchen.

Lowering my hand to my side, I stepped forward and quietly crouched down beside it, reaching out and slowly moving the flaps aside. I reached my hand inside and pulled out the first National Geographic magazine, looking somberly down at it as I realized the only time I had looked at them had been when I first received them, when Barbara gave them to me during the little end-of-tour celebration. I sat beside the box, pulling it closer toward me. In the blue glow of the oven light, I pulled out the magazines and sat them on my lap, feeling their cold covers through my pajama pants.

Forgetting about the glass of water and the time, I opened the cover and lightly touched the picture of a cityscape, running my fingers along the tops of the skyscrapers.

I flipped a few pages and looked down at the snow falling on a wide open plain, the snow glowing blue in the oven light.

"Wow," I breathed, tracing the path of the snow with my fingertips and smiling softly in wonder. One day I'd flip open one of these magazines and find my own pictures inside, my own breathtaking images printed within the pages. People would get to see the beauty that I've been seeing, that I'd been capturing, and I'd share the scenes with peoples who would appreciate them like I did. People would feel the excitement, the wonder that I had experienced getting the picture, and they'd get to have the image for themselves. Beauty that they never knew was there would be held in their hands!

I pulled the magazine to my chest, pressing the pages against myself and closing my eyes as I imagined spending every day capturing landscapes with my camera. Soon, in August, I could return to Harrison and pick up my new assignment, being a photographer for National Geographic. This job was only going to be for a year, and I wouldn't be here much longer.

Here?

I opened my eyes suddenly and turned to look around me, remembering suddenly where I was. I dropped the magazine from my chest and closed it, setting it on the floor and standing up quickly.

The space around me contorted and shifted, and I stared wide-eyed into the room as if I had been suddenly placed there without warning. The blue light gave the room an eerie glow, and the shadows cast on the walls loomed around me in the dim space. It suddenly seemed new, but it had a distinct, unsettling familiarity about it, and my stomach twisted as I remembered the first time I had ever entered the condo.

I slowly moved forward, walking over the cold floor in my bare feet onto the living room carpet, and I moved uneasily to the door, pressing my back to the cool wood as I looked at the condo stretched out in front of me.

I remembered the despair within me as I had first entered this space, several months ago, when everything had seemed pressing and unfriendly. I remembered the anger upon arriving at the first place of my new life, the place where the idea of Il Volo became a reality and my dreams were choked and pulled away from me. I pressed backwards against the door as the walls seemed to close in, a new unkindness settling into the space. The furniture was in the same place they had been months before, and I suddenly saw Valerie's suitcase in the corner, binders of photos on the kitchen table, posters hung up on the wall, Valerie's coat hung on the hook beside mine.

My breathing was heavy, and my stomach twisted in fear and pain as the room loomed around me, reflecting the despair of the first time I had walked through that door. I was empty inside and alone in the room, and my breath was loud in the space before me.

I opened my mouth and screamed, and the piercing sound shocked me and shook me into reality.

I whirled around and slammed my hand over the light switch, flicking it on and instantly flooding the ghastly room with a warm brightness.

All the despair and fear evaporated, and I turned around and surveyed the room again, bracing myself for what I would feel. It was just a room, still and silent and unmoving. I saw the Il Volo T-shirt draped over the arm of the chair, the Il Volo poster on the wall, and my camera and laptop on the table containing the footage for the documentary, with the notepad of scribbled timeframes beside it. A jolt of excitement filled me when I remembered the boys and my projects. All the strangeness evaporated, and the mood was warm and comforting as I remembered my current life. I wasn't alone anymore, and I had the boys and all of my projects with me every day. I was not a scorned landscape photographer. I was Il Volo's photographer, and proud of it!

I sighed a long sigh in relief, sinking down against the wall beside the front door and resting my head in my hands. Everything was okay. There was no despair, no fear, only joy and ambition and my life with the boys.

I loved working for them. Life was good with them. I looked around the room at all my things, and my eyes fell on the magazines on the floor in the kitchen, sending a jolt of realization through me.

But then…what about August? What happens when I have to leave them? What happens when it's time to give up all of this? I suddenly felt afraid again, and I looked frantically around to see if there was anything else that could bring me out of the uneasiness.

There was a pounding knock on the door, and I gasped and then clamped my hand over my mouth.

"Tamzin!?" Ignazio called, and the terror in his voice made me instantly jump up and yank open the door. He stood on the porch in a white T-shirt and long plaid pajama pants, and the fear in his eyes and the way he clenched his fists rooted me to the spot. "Tamzin!" he cried, reaching out and taking my arms. "What's wrong!? I heard you scream!"

I turned my head quickly to the window, remembering that I had opened it earlier when I was sorting through the footage for the documentary.

"Everything's okay," I assured him, calming myself at the same time.

He looked behind him and then stepped forward quickly, shutting the door behind him and then pulling me tightly into his arms.

"Thank God," he breathed, holding me to him, "I thought you were hurt or something."

He was warm and his shirt was soft, and I stood still and let him hold me, my mind still racing.

He stepped back and looked at me questioningly, taking my face in his hands.

"You look flushed. What _did_ happen?"

I shook my head, stepping back from him and rubbing my face with my hands.

"I'm so sorry, Ignazio. I got up to get some water, and…the room…!"

"The room?"

"I don't know, it was scary and dark and, and- I just got scared! I don't know what happened! It just…changed! I just found the magazines in the kitchen and everything…oh, I don't know!"

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," he said soothingly, pulling me back toward him for another comforting hug.

"It must have been the magazines," I said into his shoulder, "They just got me thinking…"

"You're just tired, Tamzin," he said, taking my head in his hands and making me look at him. "You've been filming us every day for a long while now, and it's just tired you out."

"Maybe you're right," I said, wrapping my arms around him and letting him cuddle me and kiss the top of my head. "It was so strange. I need to go back to bed."

"Yes, you do," he said, and I looked up and saw him yawning.

"I'm sorry," I said, reaching up and touching his cheek, "I didn't mean to scare you or wake you up at two in the morning, especially when you're in the middle of recording an album. Do you think anyone else heard me?"

"I guess not, or they'd be here by now."

He smiled groggily and kissed the top of my head.

"I'm just glad you're okay. Oh…I was so terrified. My heart is still jumping around like crazy!"

I looked up at him, and he kissed me softly and sweetly.

I turned and looked at the magazines on the kitchen floor. They were just magazines now, and I stepped away from Ignazio and approached them cautiously. I bent and picked one up, and then another, and I gathered them up and put them back in their box. Then I picked up the box and looked around the condo.

"I'll just pick these up before I go to bed," I said to Ignazio, and he watched as I carried the box to the closet in the living room and placed it inside, shutting the door and casting it into darkness.

Then I turned back to Ignazio, gazing at him standing before me, and he smiled amusedly at me.

"That's a good place for them?" he remarked questioningly, and I smiled.

"To be fair, the middle of the kitchen wasn't a good place either. Now they're out of the way."

I fell silent, looking at him, and then I stepped away from the closet and hurried toward him, back into his arms. He held me tightly, unquestioningly, and he gently rubbed my back and fingered my hair. He kissed the top of my head, and I sighed happily and buried my face in his shoulder.

August was a long way away. No point in worrying about what would happen now.

I stayed still against Ignazio, feeling his arms around me and the rise and fall of his chest.

"You're alright now?" he asked after the long silence, and I looked up and nodded.

"Thank you. I'll go to bed now."

He nodded, and then pulled back and smiled.

"I'll stay here tonight, okay, Tamzin? I'll sleep on the couch and make sure you're okay."

"No, Ignazio, you don't have to stay."

"I want to, if you'll let me."

I buried my face in his shoulder again, and he hugged me.

"Okay. Stay."

"So why did you get up again?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, and then pulled back form him and went to the kitchen. I finally got my glass of water and drank it as I watched Ignazio go to the window and close it, and then take off his tennis shoes and sit groggily on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.

I put my glass in the sink and went to him as he rested a pillow on the arm of the couch and stretched out. I knelt beside the couch and kissed him, as he reached for my face and kissed me tenderly back.

"Goodnight, Tamzin. I love you."

"I love you too, Ignazio."

I got up and went to the light switch, but when I turned it off and saw the room bathed in the glow of the oven light, I stiffened and reached back toward the light.

"What's wrong?" Ignazio asked, watching me, and I looked over at him through the darkness.

"Nothing," I said after a moment, and then smiled when the room stayed still and normal in the blue glow. "Nothing, Ignazio. Everything's okay. Should I leave the oven light on for you?"

"Yes, please."

I nodded, and then stepped away from the light switch and walked across the room, back down the hallway and into my bedroom, where I quietly closed the door behind me and felt my way through the darkness to my bed. I slipped under the covers and pulled them to my chest, curling up on my side and closing my eyes.

I smiled, knowing that Ignazio was just outside the room on the couch. His presence comforted me, and I quickly forgot about the strangeness of the early morning, accepting that August was too far away to worry about now and giving in to sleep.

Once the boys got into the recording process, we were on a roll. Every day they came in and were immediately ready to work. The listened, they were obedient, and they sang their hearts out while I filmed. They were agreeable and friendly and laid-back, and the recording process went smoothly. Every day I was content to sit to sit and watch them, and the thrill of putting together the documentary never went away.

On breaks and after the recording sessions were done, the boys were loud and playful and silly, and they played with the microphone and joked around with each other and the producers. They sang silly songs and made me stop recording to play around with them, and we had lots of fun together. The four of us went out to eat or would gather at one of their condos just to be together and play around, and I was only alone when I left them to go back to my condo, except when Ignazio would come with me.

He was very sweet to me, and was always observant of my moods, though I was constantly happy throughout the recording process. He loved to see me get wild and excited about my project, and then he would capture me or chase me or dance with me. He loved when I laughed for no reason other than being happy, and when he could he took me to dinner or out for a walk-just the two of us. We were constantly together, and he was always singing or joking around or playing with me or one of the other boys.

As I was preoccupied with the boys and my project, the box of magazines stayed in the hall closet, and I only ever saw it when I went in there to get something. I was too busy to go out and take landscapes, and that was fine with me. I had other things to work on, and I was constantly badgering Michele on his plans for Il Volo after the album was completed.

One day as he was driving the four of us to dinner after a day of recording he got frustrated with me and told me that instead of worrying about what would come next, I should go and sketch out a cover design for the album. I immediately gasped and sat up straight, my eyes wide open as I leaned forward from the backseat.

"Really!?" I asked, exhilarated, and he laughed.

"Of course, Tamzin! You're the photographer, aren't you?"

"Yes! I am!"

I clenched my fists and hugged my camera to my chest in excitement, and when I laughed happily the boys turned to me and laughed too, enjoying my exhilaration.

I started dreaming and scheming of what the new cover could be, and the endless possibilities made me dizzy with excitement. I was determined to find the best image, and I stayed up late in the condo feverishly sketching and crumpling designs.

I was pleased with the boys' progress on the album, and I was just as excited as they were when it all started to come together.

We all stayed for extended periods of time in the recording studio, engaging together in the felicitous state of making something great. I was ready to accompany the boys on whatever it was they wanted, coming in earlier, staying later, skipping lunch to stay and record some more. I never complained, and Ignazio marveled at the fact that I was just as into the recording process as they were. I worked as diligently as they did, taking notes on how things worked, and what to ask the boys and the producers when I would interview them later on.

I found myself humming the songs on the album as I worked alone in the condo, even though I had been hearing them over and over all day, and the air around me was constantly filled with music. I even dreamed about being in the studio with the boys, but I never grew bored with it. I felt privileged to be hearing the music before anyone else did, and I loved to post about the making of the album to excite the fans. I posted pictures of the boys in the studio online, and the boys posted clips of themselves playing around in the sound booth during breaks to draw the fans into the recording process.

I was so absorbed in the world of Il Volo, and loving every second of it.

I asked Michele for a blank CD case, and he laughed at the strange request and handed one over. In the evening every day for about a week, I sat on the porch holding the case, my blank canvas, and dreaming about what the cover would be. I had my epiphany on a Friday evening, while I was sitting quietly with Ignazio. I gasped when the image lit up my mind, startling Ignazio, and he followed me as I leaped up and sprinted inside, snatching up a paper and pen to sketch out the scene.

"Brilliant!" I cried as I drew furiously, and Ignazio laughed from where he stood in the doorway, watching me.

"What have you got?" he asked, and I threw the pen aside and ran to him, holding out the paper. "See, that's going to be the theatre you performed at in March, the one in San Diego! Remember it!? It'd be perfect to take the cover photo in!"

Ignazio looked up and smiled brightly at me, nodding in approval, and I grabbed the paper from him and sprinted out of the condo. "I have to show Michele!" I yelled behind me.

Michele loved my idea, and a few weeks later, when we were far into the recording process, we took a day off from the studio work to drive to San Diego to take the photos. I was restlessly excited in the car the whole way, bouncing my knees and holding my camera tightly, looking alertly around me and amusing Ignazio.

As soon as Michele slowed in front of the theatre, I leaped out of the car and hit the ground running for the building.

"Come on, come on!" I cried.

"We have to get the suits you wanted us to wear, Ms. Montgomery!" Ignazio teased, slowly emerging from the car with Piero and Gianluca as I bounded up the steps and into the theatre. For our photoshoot, it was bathed in a breathtaking warm orange glow, and the velvety looking red curtains rippled down to the smooth stage floor above the elegant steps. It was perfect, and I walked around the theatre admiring the splendor of it. As soon as the boys were changed, they came to the stage and I inspected them, adjusting their ties and approving the hair and light make-up. Then I gave them their positions and directed them on their appearance, and went about photographing them as Michele, Barbara, and the producers sat in the front row and observed me. I ran back and forth in front of the stage, jumping up and down the steps, crawling around the floor, and running up and down the aisles as I found the best angles for my shots.

The lights and the stage around the boys gave them a presence of authority, while their faces showed their gentleness and playfulness. My pictures were brilliant, and the orders that I yelled were accompanied by my own exhilarated laugher, and then the boys' laughter at me.

"She's quite active, isn't she?" one of the producers observed where I could hear him, and Michele laughed and agreed.

"Yes, she's something, all right. Very excitable and ambitious. She's the best photographer we've ever had. Her pictures are…breathtaking."

I took this as my cue to run up to them and hand over my camera to Michele.

"The pictures so far!" I said dramatically, my hands on my hips as I eagerly awaited their approval.

The producers stared in awe as they looked at the pictures, and then slowly looked up at me.

"I told you," Michele said to them, smiling knowingly, "They're perfect, Tamzin."

He held out my camera and didn't flinch when I grabbed it from him and turned to race back to the stage in a rush of excitement to finish the photos. My red high-tops flashed over the floor as I ran toward the boys, and when Piero and Gianluca laughed at something Ignazio said to them, I was more than happy to capture the joyful scene on film.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

As my feverish documentary-editing session one evening began to draw to a close and my excited state began to relax, I realized how hot it was in the condo, and I pulled myself back from my editing for a moment to sigh and fan myself. I was in a T-shirt and shorts, but the Los Angeles spring weather was getting to me. I refused to get up to turn on the air conditioner, too intent on the work in front of me. I finished putting together a few clips of the boys in the studio, and then I closed the program and finally drew back from the laptop.

My mind was racing, and the calm stillness around me seemed strange and distant. I plucked at my shirt collar, trying to cool myself off, and I stood from my chair and brought my camera to its case. I was very pleased with the work I had done that day, and the intensity of my happiness refused to fade as my breath slowed and my mind calmed.

I went to the back door and pulled on my red high-tops, lacing them up tightly to go out on the porch. It was cooler outside in the evening air than it was in my condo, and I needed to cool off after my excited working session. I opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch, closing it behind me and then walking forward. I stopped when I saw the sky. The setting sun filled the space above with a rich orange glow, and I stared in awe at its warm brilliance, looking to the spot where the sun's rays pierced the color with a vibrant yellow. I followed the color upward back into the warm orange, and then kept going into the lighter, gentle orange that faded into a darkening blue that would soon dominate the sky.

I stared at the brilliant scene, and then slowly walked forward, going down the steps and emerging from under the porch roof to see the sky in its entirety. I turned and surveyed the whole sky, lost in the colors that faded and moved into one another around me. The skyline was black against the vibrant orange, the tops of the trees reaching up toward its splendor.

"Wow…" I breathed, and then I laughed at the sound of my own wonder, the sound filling the evening and encouraging the sunset's beauty.

I stood still for a moment, and then I whirled around and bounded back up the porch steps, throwing open the door and snatching my camera from its case. I raced back out into the evening, laughing with exhilaration as I dashed toward the sun in the far-off distance, leaving the condos retreating behind me.

My heart raced and my head whirled with building excitement as I ran along the road, my camera bouncing against me and my red high-tops a blur against the darkening gray street.

An owl hooted right outside my window, startling me from my slumber. I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness, then closed them and snuggled deeper down into the covers on the bed, exhausted from my earlier adventure. The air conditioner kicked on after a minute, blowing gently and soothingly over me, and I drifted back to sleep, comforted by the gentle whirring and the warmth of the bed.

I soon found myself standing in an empty dark space, and I whirled around, looking for someone or something in the darkness, trying to see through the blackness.

"Hello, Tamzin," Mr. Masters said as he walked up beside me and smiled merrily at me.

"Mr. Masters! I haven't seen you in a while!" I said, smiling brightly at the sight of him, and he smiled and nodded.

"You've been busy with your Il Volo boys, haven't you? I hope you've had fun with them! Are you ready to make your decision?"

"What decision, Mr. Masters?"

"Your career, of course. Your next assignment. Come with me."

He took my arm and led me forward despite my sudden panicky resistance.

"My career!? I don't have to choose yet! I'm not ready!"

"Well, it's time now, Tamzin. It's August."

"No! August isn't for a long time! I'm not ready!"

"No matter now. Here we go. Have your pick; you can go with either one."

He was gone then, and in the distance to my right I saw a beautiful stage, where Il Volo stood with Michele, Barbara, and the producers. Behind them stood the band holding their instruments, merrily improvising music as the boys smiled and played along, snapping their fingers and singing along with the music. The stage was brightly and warmly lit, with long gorgeous velvet curtains cascading to the floor behind Ignazio, who had now noticed me in the distance. He turned to me and smiled brightly, lifting his hand to wave.

I heard something and turned. To my left I saw a breathtaking scene stretching out before me, calling me forward. A huge stretch of vibrant green swaying grass led past a rippling blue lake to a line of tall, thickly leafed tress, and behind them rose majestic stony gray mountains, with light dancing across their surfaces. A blue sky stretched overhead, spread above everything, and white fluffy clouds hung low in the sky, pierced by the tips of the towering mountains. Birds strutted across the grass and flew in front of the mountains, calling to each other as a gentle wind rustled their feathers and then sweetly tousled my hair. I stepped forward and closed my eyes, taking in the smell of the grass, the water, the promising scent of coming rain.

I opened my eyes and smiled hugely, taking in the scene.

I instinctively lifted my hand from my side to point at the landscape.

"I choose-"

I froze midsentence, reaching out to the mountains.

"Yes?" asked Mr. Masters, who was now back beside me.

I stood completely still, my hand pausing in the air, staring into the mountains in the distance, into the kingdom before me.

"No. Wait."

I slowly turned around and faced the stage again. Ignazio was standing at the edge of the stage, watching me with a longing, confused expression on his face. When he saw me turn back to him, he smiled brilliantly, and I started to walk forward toward him, smiling as he reached out to me.

"Oh, be careful, Tamzin!" Mr. Masters warned suddenly, "Some of your options won't be available forever!"

"What?"

Mr. Masters pointed behind me, and I turned and then screamed when I saw the mountains collapsing into a pile of rubble, the rumbling so loud I had to cover my ears. The ground began to shake and the sky became black in an instant, the murky color infiltrating the clear lake and scaring away the birds. I screamed again as the boulders rolled and bounced into the lake, sending a wave of water through the air to knock me over. I struggled to escape the darkness and I searched frantically for the stage, finding nothing but a cold, choking blackness.

I sat up in bed panting hard and shaking. I was still wet, but it was sweat instead of the horrible dark lake water. My gasping breath was loud in the dark, and I pressed my fists to my eyes as tears started to spill down my cheeks.

_"Oh, be careful, Tamzin! Some of your options won't be available forever!"_

I shoved back the covers and leaped from the bed, stumbling through the darkness out of the room and down the hall to the living room, fleeing the bedroom. I slammed my hand over the light switch and then covered my eyes with my hands, blinded by the light.

I was still shaking, and I stood gasping in the bright room for a few minutes as I tried to convince myself it was only a dream.

I pressed my fists over my eyes, shaking my head and sighing.

I moved slowly to the couch, feeling as if I was still in a daze as I got a blanket from the hall closet and unfolded it. I looked around the quiet condo, looking over my laptop, Il Volo posters, my Il Volo T-shirt draped over a chair, and my camera in its case, containing pictures of the beautiful sunset I had seen only hours earlier.

I breathed slowly in and out, trying and failing not to think of the inevitable moment in August when I could either accept a contract for another year with Il Volo or deny it in pursuit of my long-anticipated position with National Geographic.

Exhausted, I sunk down onto the couch, my head on the arm as I pulled the blanket tightly around myself, seeking release from my torturous imaginings and receiving none.

Determined to stay in the light, I closed my eyes and saw the brightness behind my lids. I tried to fight the image of the mountains crumbling into darkness as I eventually fell into a restless doze.

"Tamzin! Tamzin!?" Ignazio called.

I thought I was dreaming the call at first, but the loud knock on the door jolted me awake. I looked around me, confused, and heard the faint sound of my alarm going off down the hall.

I squinted against the light and rubbed my eyes. There was another knock at the door, and I jumped and then glared grouchily at it.

"Tamzin?"

"What, Ignazio!? What do you want this early in the morning!?"

There was no response, and I rolled my eyes and pushed back the blanket, getting up and stumbling to the door, which I thrust open and then put my hands on my hips and waited for him to say something.

"I brought you coffee."

He smiled brightly at me and leaned forward to kiss my cheek, making me drop my arms and look up at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Ignazio. I just…had a rough night."

"Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that."

He handed me my coffee and then pulled me gently into his arms, kissing the top of my head as he hugged me.

"What happened?"

I looked up at him, into his sweet brown eyes waiting for my answer.

"Bad dream."

I stepped back into the condo and let him follow me inside and to the table, where I pushed my laptop out the way and sat down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I want to pretend it never happened."

"Talking about it might make you feel better."

"Trust me. It won't. Thanks for the coffee."

"Sure, Tamzin. You know your alarm is still going off, right?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course!"

I got up clumsily from the table and hurried down the hallway to turn it off. I returned moments later, having changed out of my pajamas and yawning and rubbing my eyes.

"Did you sleep on the couch?" Ignazio asked, seeing the blanket, and I nodded as I slid into the chair across from him.

"I just wanted to get out of the bedroom and into the light."

"Must have been a really bad dream."

I wearily sipped my coffee and leaned my head on my fist.

"Mmm-hmm…did I thank you for the coffee yet?"

He gave me a funny look.

"Yes, Tamzin, you did. Maybe you should stay here and take a nap."

I quickly shook my head.

"No, thank you! I want to get out of here, ASAP! I want to keep working on my documentary and not think about dreams."

He nodded, looking unsure, and I checked my watch and then got up to get my things together, seeing that we'd have to leave in only a few minutes. As I moved about the condo and Ignazio watched, my mind was clouded with fearful uncertainty, and I felt somber in the shadow of the impending decision I'd have to make. I tried desperately to tell myself that August was far away and return to the security of my current assignment, trying not to worry about the end of it.

"Tamzin, are you sure you're okay?"

Apparently my frowning expression gave away my worried thinking.

"Yes! I'm okay, Ignazio! Can we just go?"

He nodded, watching me intently, and I slung my camera over my shoulder and led the way out the door, stifling a yawn.

Ignazio drove one of the rental cars and I sat in the passenger seat beside him, with Piero and Gianluca in the backseat singing some Spanish pop song I had never heard. I sat staring somberly out the window, sitting on one of my red high-topped feet with my camera on my lap, turned away from Ignazio. I realized after a few minutes how strange it was that Ignazio wasn't joining in with Piero and Gianluca, and when I turned to him I saw it was because he was dividing his attention between me and the road.

He looked back at me and then smiled softly, but I didn't respond. I turned my face away and leaned back in the seat, gazing out the window at the passing Los Angeles buildings.

"Hey, Ignazio," Piero said, "Did you tell Tamzin about…?"

"Oh!" he said, "Right! No, not yet!"

I sat up and turned back to him, leaning forward to look at the boys in the backseat, who were smiling knowingly at me.

"Tell me what?"

"Gatica and Renis have a surprise for you when we get to the studio," Piero said.

"The producers have a surprise for me?"

"Yes! Michele too. You're going to love it!" Gianluca said.

"I can't wait to see your face!" Ignazio said eagerly, reaching over and playfully pinching my cheek.

"Well, what is it?"

"You'll just have to wait a few more minutes," he said in a teasing singsong voice.

"Ignazio!" I protested, reaching out and grabbing his arm, "I like to know what's going on!"

"Well, for one, we're going to crash if you don't let go of me while I'm trying to drive."

I rolled my eyes but let go, and then turned expectantly to the boys in the back, who smiled and leaned back in their seats, putting their hands dramatically behind their heads and looking everywhere but at me.

"Boys!"

The three of them laughed.

"Just wait, Tamzin," Ignazio said, and I folded my arms and playfully narrowed my eyes, which he returned with a bright smile as he turned onto the street where the studio was.

After we parked, I led the way briskly inside, with my camera draped over my shoulder.

"Tamzin, wait!" Ignazio called, as the three boys came hurriedly after me. I burst into the room, and Gatica, Renis, and Michele turned toward me from the switchboard.

"Good morning, Tamzin," Gatica said, and I strode up to him and held out my hand.

"Surprise, please."

They laughed, and I didn't move when Ignazio came up beside me and kissed me on the cheek.

"Sit," Michele commanded me, pointing to the sofa, and I retreated backwards and sat, setting my camera down beside me. Ignazio sat on the other side of me, watching me intently as Piero and Gianluca sat across the room beside the producers.

"Well?" I asked, and Michele shook his head and smiled.

Then he stood from the switchboard, holding something behind his back as he slowly approached.

"As you know, we are not finished recording the CD yet, but…we have begun to put together what it will look like when it is finished, parts of the package the buyers will receive…"

"Michele, you're teasing me!" I protested, and he laughed.

"Yes, I am. Here."

He held something out to me, and I reached out and took it as everyone watched. All my lingering somberness immediately evaporated, and I gasped.

"Oh, Michele!" I cried, leaping up from the sofa and clutching the beautiful object, the product of hours of work done in joyful exhilaration.

It was the booklet that went inside the CD case, that had the cover of the album, lyrics, and of course, more photos. The cover was my favorite photo of the boys standing together on the stage, the rich orange glow and the velvety curtains behind them making for a magnificently elegant album cover.

"It's brilliant!" I exclaimed, looking up eagerly at the producers, and then I looked back down at it and laughed as I flipped it open and thumbed through the pages, awestruck at my own varied photos of the boys in the theatre and in the studio. I had helped to make this perfect little book that would soon be in their new CD case, and pride swelled within me.

"I love it! It's perfect! Oh, just imagine it inside a CD case, on a shelf in some store, advertising itself to the world. It's brilliant! Gosh, just look at this album cover!"

I laughed again in exhilaration, and they laughed with me.

I bounded forward and surprised Michele by pouncing on him and hugging him tightly. He laughed and hugged me back, and then I hugged Gatica and Renis, and then when Ignazio reached out eagerly to me I pounced on him, and he caught me and hoisted me into the air above him, making me laugh again.

"Michele showed us last night," he told me as he hugged me, and then he released me and I hugged the little booklet to my chest, my breathing and my heartbeat fast and excited. "I brought it to your condo to show you, but you were out probably racing along the beach or something, so we decided to show you today!"

"Oh, I love it!" I said, breathless, and then I flipped to the back of the book and laughed when I saw my name in teeny print at the bottom of the page. Determination to keep producing beautiful things like that swelled within me, and I looked up to find everyone smiling at me. I flipped the booklet shut and slid it swiftly into my pocket, reaching back and grabbing my camera from the couch.

"Well, what are we waiting for!? We've got a CD to record and a documentary to film! Let's go, people!"

Everyone laughed, and Gatica said, "You heard her, guys! Let's get to it! Ignazio, you're up first!"

I grabbed his hand tightly in mine and turned to dash into the recording booth. He laughed and ran with me, shutting the door behind him and obediently sliding on the headphones I handed him. I jumped into my filming corner and sat in my chair, holding up my camera and starting the recording as my heart raced with unbounded joy at being a part of Il Volo's team.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

One day as we were finishing the CD, I was in the booth with Piero, filming him intently as he finished re-recording certain sections of a new song.

"How's that?" he asked as he finished and slid off his headphones.

"Perfect!" Renis said, giving him a thumbs-up. "Guys…That's a wrap!"

"Really!?" Piero called, and outside the booth Ignazio leaped up and cheered, and Gianluca followed suit. They hugged and then ran to the producers and Michele to hug them, and Piero started happy-dancing in the booth until Gianluca and Ignazio burst in and pulled him into a hug too. They all started whooping and high-fiving and jumping around, and I sat silently in my corner, shaking with excitement as I captured the moment the CD was deemed finished. This would be an important part of my documentary, and I could see it coming together before my eyes!

Ignazio thankfully waited until I had set down the camera to race forward and pull me up into his arms and into the whooping mass of cheering boys.

I laughed and cheered with them, and then after a minute we all left the sound booth and I grabbed my camera and started filming the excitement again.

"What happens next?" I asked Gatica.

"Now we piece together the music. Soon we'll all listen to the finished CD together."

"Brilliant!" I said, and when I lowered the camera Ignazio swept me up into his arms and kissed me.

Several days later, we gathered together in the studio and sat quietly as Gatica and Renis put on the full CD. I sat against the wall to be able to get everyone on my camera screen and filmed for a while, getting the boys' approving smiles and nods at their own music. After a while I sat the camera down beside me to listen and take it all in. I leaned my head on my fist and was quiet and still, fingering the camera strap as I listened to the music my life was currently set to.

It was absolutely gorgeous, and I closed my eyes, entranced, remembering the first time I had realized my responsibility as their photographer. I smiled as I remembered everything I had done with them since then, the beauty I had thankfully gotten entangled with.

With this thought, I opened my eyes and looked at Ignazio across the room and found he was looking at me already and smiling softly. When he saw me looking back his smile widened, and he wordlessly pushed at Piero to get him to move over on the couch. Then he reached out his hands, and I smiled and got up from the floor, leaving my camera beside Michele's chair.

I soundlessly crossed the floor and sat beside Ignazio, who wrapped his arm around my shoulders and quietly leaned toward me to sweetly kiss my cheek and whisper teasingly in my ear, "I think I like this_ pop_ music. How about you?"

I rolled my eyes and stifled a laugh, and I then held my finger to my lips. He smiled brightly and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes to keep listening, and he smiled when he felt me lean against him.

When the last notes ended, we all sat silently together for a few minutes, thinking, staying in our trance. I looked around at everyone and then at Ignazio, who stopped gazing into the distance to smile back at me.

"It's brilliant!" I said to the group, breaking the silence, and Ignazio laughed and hugged me. Then Piero and Gianluca laughed, and we were all laughing in joyful excitement.

"I agree wholeheartedly, Tamzin!" Renis said, and as they started to discuss production and distribution of the album, I collected my camera and sat beside Ignazio again, listening intently to their plans.

"So," Michele said, shaking hands with Gatica and Renis, "That's it, boys! The album is finished!"

Ignazio whooped, inspiring Piero and Gianluca to do the same, and they all jumped up for another round of hugging and cheering as I left the couch and went to crouch down beside Michele's chair. "So, then what?" I asked.

"What?" Gatica asked, and Michele put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm assuming she wants to know what happens after the CDs are ready for distribution."

"Yes. What's next for Il Volo?"

"Well, there's promotion. We need to let it be known that there will soon be a new, fabulous Il Volo CD ready for purchase!"

I moved closer to his chair and put my chin in the palm of my hand, waiting intently. When he just smiled at me and didn't continue, I asked, "Specifically. How do we go about doing this? What now?"

Michele smiled.

"Now, you enjoy the rest of the summer with the boys as the CDs are produced."

"And then what?"

"Then we'll start our promotion of the album in August, so you and the boys will have some time to play and relax."

"I don't want to relax. I want to-"

"She wants to come to the beach with us, I hope!" Ignazio said, and I felt his hand on my arm pulling me up from the floor.

I didn't answer him as I continued interrogating the producers.

"So when August comes, we'll start a promotional tour and we'll go…where?"

"To the beach!" Ignazio exclaimed, walking around me and taking my camera in one hand and my hand in another, "Come on, my dear! We're going water-skiing!"

"Go, Tamzin. I'll let you guys know later," Michele said as I squirmed away from Ignazio.

"Michele! When do we leave? Where are we going? Do you have interviews planned yet? Which ones? Are we going to-"

Michele just smiled at me and then shook his head at the producers. I put my hands defiantly on my hips, glaring exasperatedly at him.

"Michele!"

"Go play, Tamzin," he said, and then laughed when Ignazio wrapped an arm around my middle and hoisted me over his shoulder.

"Let's go!" he called, and Piero and Gianluca called see-you-laters to the producers as they stormed out the door, Ignazio following, carrying me as I squirmed.

"I'll be back, Michele!" I promised, and he laughed and waved.

I let Ignazio take me to the beach with him and Gianluca and Piero, after I made him take me back to the condos to change and put away my beloved camera. Then we went water-skiing, like Ignazio said we would, and we played Frisbee, and we went swimming. I didn't mind the break, actually, because it was fun and it gave me an opportunity to think about what I was going to do after we returned to the condos.

When we did return, in the evening, and Ignazio kissed me goodnight and left me on my porch, I went directly to Michele's condo and climbed through the kitchen window, finding it open to let in the summer air.

He was sitting at the table eating a bowl of soup, and he watched me as I dropped to the ground and then waltzed over and slid into a chair across from him.

"Good evening," I said, as if what I had just done was completely normal. "I came back."

"I thought you would. I see you wasted no time in getting here," he observed, eyebrows raised, and I straightened my swimsuit cover-up and flipped my damp hair over my shoulder.

"So," I said, leaning forward and crossing my arms on the table. "In August we start on the promotions. Can you elaborate on that?"

"We'll do a promotional tour in the U.S. throughout August and some of September, focusing on the major cities. Then we'll do some interviews in the Latin countries and see where we are after that."

"Do you have any interviews lined up yet?"

"A few, though the producers and I would like to get some more."

"Can I have a copy of the schedule of the ones you've got?"

He put down his spoon and smiled at me, pushing aside the bowl of soup.

"Tamzin, would you like to be Il Volo's manager?"

"Just give me the schedule."

"Why?"

"I like to know what's going on."

"Oh really?"

I rolled my eyes and then leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms and giving him an exasperated look.

He smiled at me and then pushed back from the table. I sat up and watched eagerly as he walked to the couch and went through a stack of papers, pulling out a manila folder and returning to the table. He sat and pushed it toward me across the tabletop.

I reached out and received it from him, flipping it open and observing the calendar in front of me. He had written down the times and locations of several different interviews and television appearances on various dates. On the side of the calendar he had written notes about what cities we would be in during certain dates. The interviews he had secured were good, but the calendar was sparse.

"Okay. How many interviews were you planning on having?"

"As many as we can get."

"Really!?"

"Within reason, Tamzin!"

"Yeah, yeah. So, Michele…"

I flipped the folder shut, and realized that my name was written on the cover. I looked up at him, and found him smiling crookedly at me.

"Yes, Tamzin?"

"If I can secure us some interviews with big TV and radio programs, will the boys do them?"

"Yes, but how will you get them?"

I leaned my chin on my arm and smiled cunningly.

"I can be very convincing. So when are we planning on releasing the CD?"

"Late August, I think."

"Late August…hmmm…"

I picked up the folder and stood from the table, leaning against the wall beside the window as I dug the toe of my red high-top into the ground.

"Late August…So not much time before the AMAs, but I guess I'll have to work with it…"

"Tamzin, what?"

I looked up at him and smiled slyly.

"You just wait."

I turned and walked briskly toward the door, pulling it open and stepping out into the fading light.

"Tamzin?"

I turned and found him pulling the bowl of soup back in front of himself, smiling as he watched me.

"Hmm?"

"Go for it."

I shared the smile with him, and then whirled around and shut the door, running down the steps and toward my condo, my only slightly-damp hair flying behind me as my red high-tops shone in the porch lights of our cluster of condos. I couldn't help but laugh excitedly as I ran, my heart racing as I clutched the folder with my name on it to my chest.

I hung up the phone and smiled to myself as I picked up my pen and scribbled a few lines onto the calendar I had tacked up the night before, then moved over to a paper of my own carefully planned out notes and crossed out some details. I raised my phone again and dialed quickly and excitedly, sitting down at the table and sighing.

"Come on…" I murmured as the phone rang, "I've got some other calls to get to…"

Finally someone picked up, and I smiled confidently and leaned back in my chair, crossing my red high-topped feet on top of the table.

"Yes, hello, this is Tamzin Montgomery; I work with Il Volo, the world-famous trio of young Italian singers. I have written here that they performed on your show in January of two years ago, and I'd like to speak with the producers of your show about possibly setting up another performance, that is, if your schedule works with ours…Thank you!"

I waited until the secretary was scrambling to find the producers, and before long I found myself speaking to the management of one of the U.S.'s most popular late-night shows.

"Why, hello!...Yes, that's right, I'm Tamzin Montgomery, and I work with Il Volo, the world-famous trio of young Italian singers. I have in my records here that they performed on your show on January 23rd of two years ago, and had a vey…lasting impression on your audience, yes?"

I heard a soft knocking on the door of my condo, and I turned as Ignazio called, "Tamzin!? Are you there? I want to ask you something!"

"Good, of course, how could you not? They performed flawlessly on your show! Anyway…"

"I'm coming in, okay?"

Ignazio opened the door slowly, peering in and then smiling brightly when he saw me, his lengthening dark hair falling into his eyes whenever he turned his head.

I immediately held my finger to my lips and raised my eyebrows, and he nodded, closing the door very quietly behind him as I smiled and turned my attention back to the papers scattered across the table in front of me.

"Anyway…the boys have just finished recording a brand-new CD of their versions of popular traditional American songs, and I'm sure the country would be very interested in hearing a preview of it…I believe it's an excellent opportunity for the country, and for your show also, to be one of the first programs in the world to be a part of this movement toward more operatic music!"

I heard Ignazio walking toward the sofa, and I heard him sit as he presumably waited for me to finish my phone call.

"So I've managed to convince the boys to take some time out of their busy schedule to do some public televised appearances, and they agreed that your show definitely had to be contacted! The boys just love your show, and they'd love to have the chance to perform again on your stage!"

There was silence for a moment, and then he asked for time to consult with his fellow management.

"Why, of course!" I exclaimed, "The staff must be notified immediately about this opportunity!"

While I waited, I turned and saw the look of astonishment on Ignazio's face, and I smiled and blew him a kiss. He stared bewilderedly back at me and raised his eyebrows.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm just on the phone with the management of one of the most popular nighttime shows in the country!"

"What!? Why!?"

"I'm getting you some new publicity opportunities. Haven't you learned by now that I can be very convincing?"

"Does Michele know that you-"

"It is with his blessing that I operate."

"How do you suppose-"

"Shh, Ignazio! I'm on a very important phone call!"

He raised his eyebrows, still looking bewildered, and I smiled and tapped my pen impatiently on the table.

I waited for several minutes, and then the producer came back on, his gruff voice business-like and strikingly unplayful as he spoke.

"Usually our schedules are made out by our booking team, Ms. Montgomery."

"Yes, well, I thought you might want to be notified directly about this opportunity."

There was a pause, and I held my breath, my heart racing in my chest.

"Sure, of course. So here's when we're able to accommodate you…"

I smirked eagerly and set my feet down from the table, jumping up and going to the calendar on the wall.

"I'm listening…"

I scribbled down everything that he told me, obediently agreeing to the date and time he provided, which was fortunately during the time we'd be in New York anyway, and noting the location of the set as Ignazio watched me in astonished silence.

"Okay…so, final plan run-through..."

I saw Ignazio perk up out of the corner of my eye, listening intently, and I leaned back and sat on the table, watching my improved calendar of promotional events.

"We'll be in New York already in mid-August, so on August 19th we'll be at your studio at six o'clock sharp! Yes, I'll have the boys dressed and ready to perform, although I do expect you to give us some necessary pre-show sound-check time…Naturally!... Alright, I suppose we can do that. At five, then, we'll be at the studio, and the boys will be dressed and ready to perform, and accompanied by myself and the other management…Michele Torpedine and Barbara Vitali. There we will have our necessary sound-check and eagerly await the boys' appearance on the stage. I will make sure that you have the music we will be releasing before the official release of the album for the boys' performance, and I expect it to be guarded highly within your studio."

I turned to smile brightly at Ignazio, who was still staring back, eyebrows raised, shaking his head.

"Alright, then it's settled, thank you so much, we'll be there! I'm sure the boys will be eagerly awaiting their interview!"

Ignazio beamed at me as he jumped up triumphantly from the couch, reaching out to me as he waited excitedly for me to hang up.

"Woa, hold up, what!?"

Ignazio lowered his arms, looking confused.

"Just a performance? No, no, no, that won't work…Now, you listen to me!"

"_Tamzin!_" Ignazio hissed.

"_Sit_!" I mouthed, pointing at the sofa, and he sat.

"Yes, I'm well aware of how the last show went. You had your whole episode interviewing washed-up members of Hollywood, people hoping to drag out their fame but have long since passed their peak. And your host sat there with them and asked them about what they've been up to, because no one in the audience had even heard their names since they finished whatever sitcom they had done in the nineties, or even back in the eighties! And I'm sure you saw the bored faces of the people in the audience, because even though they loved whatever sitcom produced this star-and I use that term loosely- they no longer care what they're doing, because now they're just normal people with normal lives, and if we wanted to hear how someone feels about their new grandchild, we could have just selected any older member of the audience!"

I was aware that Ignazio was staring open-mouthed at me, and when I turned to look at him he started motioning wildly for me to stop and clasping his hands together to beg for my mercy upon the producer as he fell off of the sofa onto his knees.

I turned away and continued.

"Now, I don't say this to be rude, but we both know you could have done better than that. And so you did, in the last few minutes of the show when you finally introduced Il Volo, and they came onto the stage in their tuxedos, and they sang their hearts out, and it was beautiful, and _transcendent_, and people in the audience even cried! Don't you remember that!? It was a brilliant performance, and I commend you sincerely for securing a performance from those three! Your mistake was cramming them into the final minutes of the show. I seem to remember that a verse of the song was also omitted."

"_Tamzin_!" Ignazio hissed, and I turned to find him still on his knees, clasping his hands and shaking his head vigorously. _"Tamzin, you've already somehow booked us a performance, let it be and don't lose it!"_

"_Expect more, get more!_" I hissed back, momentarily holding away the phone.

"Tamzin!" he pleaded, shaking his head, "Don't!"

"Sit!" I commanded, and instead he collapsed dramatically face-first onto the floor, giving up his fight. I rolled my eyes and decided that was good enough, and then held up the phone again, starting my pacing back and forth across the living room carpet as Ignazio raised his head and watched me curiously.

"I'm afraid you have misimagined these three boys. See, they're not_ just_ stunning singers! They are incredibly handsome and charming young men, and they command your attention with just a single smile. Listen, let me give you some specifics, here. Ignazio's the funny one, and he'll be the one to answer most of the questions and take control of the interview. He'll be the comedian, and the audience will just fall in love with his candor! And his Italian accent will definitely be the most present, which isn't bad to listen to either."

Ignazio was sitting against the sofa now, smiling and shaking his head as he watched me.

"Piero's got some great stories to tell, and he and Ignazio have this very funny banter that America would love to see. And Gianluca, well, he's the reflective type, but image the charm of a young John Stamos and multiply it by ten. He'll be pretty quiet, but make sure he gets addressed personally, because he can be quite…_suave…_"

I stopped pacing and leaned against the table to watch Ignazio, and I paused for a moment to take in his sweet smile at he listened.

"Overall…" I said more softly as I watched Ignazio, "I promise you that you won't be sorry you took the time to interview these three amazing boys."

There was a pause, and I stayed locked into Ignazio's deep brown eyes as I waited with baited breath, my heart racing as I waited for my answer.

The producer sighed and then said, "Okay. Here's how we'll do this…"

I straightened up, and Ignazio's eyebrows jumped up as I whirled around and raced back to my calendar, snatching up my pen.

"August 16th…four o'clock… main studio…dressed and ready to go…no former meeting with the host…live recording. Okay, yes, I got that…"

I turned to Ignazio, beaming, and he rose slowly from the floor, staring at me with a hesitant smile.

"We'll see you there. Thank you," I said, and then hung up and slowly set down the phone on the table, placing my pen next to it. "Ignazio?"

"Yes?" He stood poised, ready to run and scoop me up in his arms.

"On August 16th, when we're in New York City…"

I slowly made my way around the table, stepping out into the open in front of him.

"Yes?"

"You have an interview _and_ a live performance on one of the most popular nighttime talk shows in the country!"

"AHHHHH! TAAAMMMZZZIINNNN!"

He ran at me and I laughed as he grabbed me and swung me up into the air high above his head, spinning me around as we laughed together. Then he set me down and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me all over my face before he kissed my lips.

"How did you do that!?" he asked, and I laughed and leaped away from him. "I told you I could be convincing!" I ran back into his arms and took his face in my hands. "When I want something, I don't back down!"

He laughed, and I kissed him and then grabbed his arms and pulled him toward the table.

"Come see! Come see!"

He followed me to my calendar, where I pointed at the first of August and followed the days with my finger to the end of the month, explaining the interviews I had secured.

"Everything in red is yours?"

"Yes!"

"Woa."

"Yeah! But I still have some more interviews to secure, like these…"

I turned and shuffled through the papers on the table, producing a sheet that I handed Ignazio.

"Wow," he said, and then again, "Wow!"

"I've got a lot of work to do," I explained, "I want to secure all of these before tonight so I can help Michele arrange the traveling."

He laughed, and I took the paper back and added it to the stack on the table.

"I've watched all your previous performances on some of these shows, took notes, researched producers and phone numbers, found loopholes and people to talk to, and I've written down…hey wasn't there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to lunch with me, but now maybe I think I'll cook something here for us instead?"

I smiled, and then took him by the shoulders and stepped toward him to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around my back, and I moved my arms around his neck as we kissed.

"Perfect," I said when I finally pulled back, "I was so eager to start that I didn't even have breakfast! Thank you, Ignazio!"

He laughed, and I laughed with him, giddily and excitedly.

"No problem, Tamzin. Besides, if you're going to be calling some more studios now, I want to hear!"

I laughed, and reached up to tug gently on the hair falling into his shimmering eyes.

"If you're going to be on these shows, though, you're going to need a haircut."

He kissed me again, and then pulled back and just watched me for a moment, shaking his head.

"You're something else, Tamzin, you know that?"

He let go of me and hurried out of the condo to get his things to cook lunch, as I leafed through my papers and picked up the phone again, falling into a chair and propping up my red high-topped feet on the table.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The time we spent in Los Angeles for the remainder of the summer reminded me of the days I first came to be Il Volo's photographer, though I was now infinitely happier. The boys were their usual active selves, going biking and swimming and hiking throughout the city, and I accompanied them on many of their trips. We had lots of fun together, romping through the city and over the beaches on our wild adventures, teasing each other and laughing, with the boys horseplaying and singing pop songs for my entertainment.

As the boys spent most of their days enjoying their time together, I spent most of mine working. I interviewed Michele, Barbara, and the producers for my documentary, and I helped Michele sort out the details of the promotional tour, explaining to him all the events I had secured and telling him my opinions on how I thought our traveling would best be handled.

We were first going to do interviews around California and drive to the different locations during the day, returning to our condos at night. But when those were finished, we were headed to Chicago, New York City, Detroit, Boston, and a collection of other various major cities.

We were planning to depart from Los Angeles on August 10th, after we had completed the various California-based talk-shows and news programs.

Many times during the evenings Ignazio would collect me from Michele's condo or the recording studio with the producers and take me out with him, to dinner or a movie or some other romantic gesture he had planned out.

On my birthday in early July, Ignazio arranged for our whole group to have dinner at the same restaurant I had first dined in with the boys, the beautiful restaurant with tall ceilings and red tablecloths, and lovely flickering candles and violin music that made me catch my breath when I walked in.

"Oh, I remember this!" I exclaimed when I entered the restaurant beside Ignazio, the rest of the group trailing behind us.

"We sat over there, and I mostly just watched you guys talk, except at the end when you said you were _extraordinary_ boys, and I said…"

"_So it may seem!_" Ignazio chimed in with me, and we both laughed. "Have we convinced you yet, my dear?" he asked, offering me his arm, and I took it and leaned toward him to kiss his cheek.

"Absolutely, Ignazio."

My summer days with the boys were a whirl of happiness and constant excitement. My laughter was incessant, and the work I now loved was never far from my mind. Calendars, schedules and my own notes about the promotional tour littered my table, the couch, and the walls of my condo.

Occasionally I would take my camera and go out on an exhilarating landscape excursion, but most of my work and my time were dedicated to Il Volo.

Ignazio often came over just to be in the same room as me, and he would cook or write music or text his sister in Italy as he watched me work. He didn't mind my constant excited laugher, and I often found him smiling softly as he watched me from the couch or the kitchen.

The only thing that ever dared to intrude into my happy thoughts was the idea that my time with the boys was running out. I hated to think of it, and so I tried to avoid doing so, but I knew my year with Il Volo was coming to a close.

I was sure that Michele would offer me another contract, but I was still uneasy and fretful. I loved working with Il Volo, but I also loved my landscapes, and the idea, my dream, of being a photographer for National Geographic was still a thrill to me.

The end of my year and my contract were nearby, and I was fearful of the year to come.

It wasn't the idea of working another year for Il Volo that scared me, but the idea that the opportunity of working for National Geographic was slipping away.

I thought back to the time I had sat in Mr. Master's office before I had signed the Il Volo contract.

_"This contract's for exactly a year," _Mr. Masters had said._ "If National Geographic does come back next year, you'll be back in time for another shot at their company."_

I sat cross-legged on top of the kitchen table one evening, staring blankly ahead of me at the promotional tour calendar on the wall, looking over Michele's black ink and my red ink throughout the page, marking the days we would be doing interviews in various locations.

I sighed and stared blankly at the calendar, pulling my knees to my chest and hugging them.

_At least…if this is the end of my year with them…I was able to assist in some of next year's activities. _

I turned my head and looked beside me on the table, at the summer issues of National Geographic my mother had collected and sent to me. Beside them was the prototype for the CD, with my cover on it, the three boys smiling at me from the stage.

I smiled at Ignazio in the photo, but then looked away and back at the calendar, resting my chin on my knees.

I lifted my head when I heard a slight knock on the door, so light that I wasn't sure if I had really heard it at first. I turned as the door opened and Ignazio stepped wordlessly into the condo. He shut the door quietly behind him and leaned against it, looking at me without smiling. I gazed back at him from the table, and then I moved and quietly dropped to the floor, straightening and watching him from across the room.

"I'm going for a walk," he said, his voice gentle and reflective, "Will you come with me?"

"Yes, please," I said back, my voice just as soft, and then he watched as I took my red high-tops from under the table and pulled them on.

Then I went to him and he took my hand tightly in his, and we left the condo, going wordlessly down the front steps and into the fading evening light, the last light of day.

We walked along together in silence, hand in hand, as we left the condos in the distance and walked until we reached the beginning of the beach sand, the waves crashing against the shore far in the distance on the empty, darkening beach. It was where I had taken him after the end of their tour, with the long expanse of sand leading to the rolling California hills, with the fence in front of us and the trees behind us that we had climbed to see beyond it, and the rocks on the beach that caught the water and held it in the dip in the sand.

"I love this view," he said, and I nodded and then looked up at him. "I've come back a few times since you showed me. Tamzin, you've got a great eye for picturesque landscapes."

"Thanks."

"I know you'd be great as a photographer for National Geographic."

I looked up at him again, and he leaned toward me and lightly kissed my temple, squeezing my hand in his.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked, surprised that he seemed so laid-back about the idea of me leaving. "Honestly, Ignazio…do you think it would be better if I went to work for…" Then I realized the solemnity of his expression, and I fell quiet.

He turned toward me and pulled me close, holding me tightly to him as he kissed me tenderly for a long moment. Then he pulled back and leaned his forehead against mine.

"I love you, Tamzin."

"I love you, too."

"You're the best photographer we've ever had, though now that you're organizing our tour I suppose you're somewhat management too. I've absolutely loved spending this amazing year with you, and I want so badly to spend another one with you. I want you to stay with us, and I…hate…the idea of you leaving."

I kissed him, and he held me tightly and didn't let go for a long while. Then finally he released me and took my hand, and we looked at the landscape in front of us, the sky filled with brilliant shades of pink and orange with the fading light.

"But…" he said, gazing into the distance as I looked up at him, mirroring his solemn expression. "You have to choose your future, and you have to pick it for you, not me. You have to decide what will be best, and I will have to accept whatever it is. If you leave, I'll miss you so much…but…I'll know it is what's best for you."

He looked down at me, and for the first time since knowing him, his eyes shimmered with something other than his sweet playfulness or his gentle concern.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, and I reached up and took his face in my hand.

"Ignazio…" I whispered, incredulous as I gazed at him. I felt like crying too, all of a sudden, especially when he pulled me into his arms and held me close again.

"Michele says it'll be tomorrow," he whispered in my ear, and I buried my face in his T-shirt. "Than you'll have a few days to think about it before we leave for the tour."

His grip loosened, and I looked up at him.

"Though I suspect you know already what you're doing."

I looked out at the beach stretched out in front of us and nodded, and as I did he kissed the top of my head and released me. I took his hand and turned away from the landscape, and we started to walk slowly along the sand away from it.

"I think I know what I'm going to pick," I said, and stared ahead of me as he walked along beside me and watched me intently. "But I'm terrified. I just want to make the choice and get it over with, because I've been living in the shadow of this decision. I know what I've decided to pick, but as long as I'm on this side of it…it's too easy for me to change my mind and pick the other option. It's terrifying, because I know that I'm giving up something great, and I wish I could know what would have become of it."

He nodded and squeezed my hand, and I looked up at him and smiled slightly.

"You don't have to tell me what you've chosen, or what you're going to choose. I know you're still fighting with yourself."

I nodded.

"I'm scared, Ignazio. I wish I could tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, what I want. I've been telling myself over and over for months, _"August isn't for a long while. I don't have to think about it yet…"_ But it came so quickly…Now I'm trying to keep focusing on what I'm going to choose and not on what I'm leaving behind."

I sighed, and he let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist instead, and I was glad to do the same, moving closer to him, feeling him against me.

"Tomorrow…I'll be able to see the next year for certain, in front of me, and not have to struggle with the idea that I have the power to affect my future, because I'll already have picked my path."

I looked up at him, and then behind us at the landscape moving further and further behind, the colors in the sky fading into a dark, inky black, with no stars out tonight.

"Let's go back to the condos," he said softly, and I nodded, still focused on the blackening, moonless and starless sky.

We walked back to the condos in silence, and when Ignazio stopped on my porch to tell me goodnight, I took his arm and opened the door, pleading with him to come inside with me.

He wordlessly agreed, and we entered the condo, where I closed the door behind us, shutting out the blackening night. Ignazio went to the couch and sat, and I moved immediately to him as he reached out for me.

He took me onto his lap, and I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as I kissed him, leaning closer into him as his arms went around me, his hands open and pressed against my back, holding me to him. I reached up and ran my hands through his silky dark hair as his arms around me tightened.

"I love you, Tamzin," he said between kisses, and I wrapped my arms around his neck again and leaned my forehead against his.

"I love you, too, Ignazio."

He pulled me against him and cuddled me to him, with my head against him shoulder. I pressed my hand against his T-shirt, feeling his warmth through the fabric as he kissed my neck and then leaned his head against mine, holding me and gently rubbing my back. I closed my eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed.

"Tamzin?" he asked after a few quiet minutes, and I opened my eyes and reached up to turn his face toward me. We gazed at each other for a while, then he kissed me one more time, tenderly and lingeringly before lifting me and setting me down gently on the couch beside him.

He stood up, and then bent down beside me to kiss my cheek, and I took his arm and turned my head to kiss his lips.

"Goodnight," he whispered, and I nodded.

"Goodnight, Ignazio."

"Lock the door behind me, okay?"

I nodded, and he turned and went to the door. I sat up and watched as he turned around and looked back at me for a moment before closing the door.

I sat still, looking at the place beside me where he had been sitting only a minute earlier. Then I rose from the couch and walked across the room to the door, where I locked it and then took my phone from my pocket, leaning against it as I dialed.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Masters? Hi, it's Tamzin."

"Oh, is that Tamzin Montgomery, star student of Harrison and photographer of the singing sensation Il Volo!?"

"The one and only," I said, smiling at the unmistakable merriment in his voice.

"Well, great to hear from you, Tamzin, but don't you think it's a bit late to be calling the Academy? You're lucky you caught me. I was just about to lock up."

"I'm sorry. I'm just returning the message you left on my phone. I just…hadn't gotten around to it yet today…"

I chewed my nails anxiously as I waited for him to respond.

"Alright, well, Tamzin, I have some important news for you!"

"Okay…" I responded softly, barely above a whisper.

"Just like I suspected they would, National Geographic contacted me about getting a new photographer-a landscape photographer-and they were very interested in you! They are aware that your current contract expires soon, and they seemed very interested in making you an offer…That is, if you aren't accepting another contract from Il Volo."

"Oh. That's…that's great! They were really interested in me?"

"Absolutely! Now, I'm sure you've been thinking of what you're going to be doing for the next year, and if you decide you'd like to quit your portraits, I know you'll have yourself a fantastic offer by the end of August! Just let me know what you decide so I can let N.G. know, okay Tamzin?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Masters."

He hung up, and I listened to the dead airwaves for a moment before hanging up and dropping my hand to my side, staring blankly at the National Geographic magazines on the kitchen table.

They were interested in me. Finally, after years and years of dreaming and hoping and waiting, National Geographic was interested in me and was going to make me an offer. My dream…Was I prepared to take it?

I sunk down against the door, until I was sitting on the floor with the phone still in my hand. I turned my head to the camera case by the T.V. containing dozens of flash drives stocked with my landscapes. Finally, I had the opportunity to have some published and shared with the world.

At last…

I let the phone fall from my hand and clatter to the ground as I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my head in them.

In the morning I slept late, having stayed up late pacing and worrying about missed opportunities and the future. When I finally did get up, I had a text from Michele asking me to meet him at his condo to have a meeting with him sometime during the day.

I got dressed and pulled on my red high-tops, taking a deep breath before leaving the condo.

I found Ignazio leaving Michele's condo, and when he saw me he came to me and pulled me into his arms without his usual bright smile. I wrapped my arms around him and let him hold me tightly, my face buried in his T-shirt.

"I love you, Tamzin. Do what's best," he whispered to me, and I nodded. Then he released me and took my head in his hands to kiss me softly. He let go of me and walked backwards for a few steps, watching me somberly before finally turning around.

I turned and walked up the steps to Michele's condo, pulling open the unlocked door to find him and Barbara sitting on the couch discussing the promotional tour.

"Ah, Tamzin!" Michele said, smiling, "You've decided to use the door this time!"

Barbara gave him a confused look, and I rolled my eyes but then offered a small smile.

"Sit," he told me, pointing to the table, and I sat as he got up and rummaged through the papers on the coffee table for a manila folder with my name on it. Barbara sat across from me and offered me her usual sweet smile, and soon Michele joined us at the table.

"So, Tamzin," he said, sitting across from me and folding his hands on the table. "I called you here to discuss the coming expiration of your contract…"

"Yeah, I know," I said, "New contract. Let's get this over with."

He smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"Okay. Well, Tamzin, let me begin by saying that this has been a great year. We've all loved having you with us, all of us! Barbara and I, the producers, the band, and especially the boys. You've been a delight to have around, and you've done wonders for Il Volo. You've truly amazed us all with your abilities, and we'd be delighted to have you with us for another year, if you so choose to stay."

Barbara nodded encouragingly at me and said, "We know from the Academy of your dream to work for National Geographic, and if that is what you choose to do, we support you fully, though we'll miss you! I suspect your decision has been very hard for you to make, and I suppose now it's time to find out what it is."

I nodded, and Michele slid the folder across the table to me. I reached out and pulled it toward me, opening it and observing the contract before me.

I had imagined this scene over and over in the past few months, the time when I would have to ultimately make my choice to stay or leave. The idea of being handed the contract terrified me in the same way it had a year ago, knowing it would seal my fate, whether good or bad.

"It's exactly the same as last year's," Michele said, and I nodded and flipped through it to the last page. "Now, I know you may want a few days to take it and perhaps go over your options again for the coming year-"

With that, I pulled a pen from my pocket and put it down to the paper, scrawling my name onto the necessary blanks.

"Michele," I said, sliding the pen back into my pocket as they stared at me, dumbfounded. "I have big plans for Il Volo, and I've never quit a project yet."

They stared at me for a moment, and I smiled and shut the folder, sliding it back across the table.

Then Barbara jumped up and ran to me to hug me.

"Oh, I'm so glad, Tamzin! I was hoping you'd want to stay with us!"

I laughed and hugged her back, and then hugged Michele when she stepped aside.

"Well, you better go and tell Ignazio," he said, pinching my cheek playfully, "That boy's been worrying about this for months!"

"Yeah, me too!" I said, waving as I whirled around to race out of the condo.

"Tamzin, you forgot your copy of the contract!" Michele called as I dashed away, but I kept running toward my condo, seeing Ignazio sitting on my steps, his head resting somberly on his crossed arms.

"Ignazio!" I called, slowing down, and he glanced up and then stood, looking anxiously at me.

"Tamzin?"

He came down the steps, and I walked right up to him, smiling, and then wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. I immediately felt his arms go around me as he kissed me back.

When he pulled back and took my arms, I smiled brightly up at him.

"I'm not finished here yet, Ignazio. You'll have to put up with me for a while longer."

His eyes lit up, and then he jumped into the air and whooped, and I laughed as he dramatically threw up his arms and fell backwards into the grass in relief, running his hands through his hair as he laughed.

I laughed excitedly with him and dropped to my knees beside him, leaning down to kiss him. He grabbed me and pulled me into the grass beside him, laying me down and moving to where he was holding himself above me.

"I can do that," he said softly, nodding, and then he closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss me.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"Alright, boys!" I called, stepping onto the coffee table and blocking the T.V. in Ignazio's condo to get their attention. "Tomorrow we leave for Chicago! Michele and I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for six!"

"My tail isn't bushy until nine!" Piero said, and then ducked and laughed when I jumped down and pretended to whack him with a copy of the calendar.

"I'm excited," Gianluca said from where he sat texting his little brother in a corner of the room, "With you monitoring our publicity, after this month I wouldn't be surprised if every family in the country has heard of us!"

"That's the idea!" I said, nodding eagerly.

"Where to first, captain?" Ignazio asked from the kitchen, as he stirred the soup was making for our group and for Gatica and Renis, and I put my hands on my hips.

"I gave you the calendar!"

"Yeah, but it's in my suitcase, and you're holding it."

"Memorize it! You packed already?"

"Ummm…sure."

"Ignazio!"

"I'm only kidding, Tamzin!" He put down the spoon and came over to me, stepping over Piero's feet on the coffee table as he passed the couch. He took my face in his hands and kissed my cheek.

"I'm packed and ready to go, my dear."

"We're going to that morning news program first," Piero said boredly as he stared at his phone screen.

"Yes!" I said, and then turned to Ignazio, "See, Piero knows the schedule!"

"Or I just have a picture of it on my phone."

He laughed as I pretended to whack him again, and then Ignazio tugged on my arm.

"Come on, Tamzin, come and taste the soup."

"And stop abusing me," Piero said, and jumped over the arm of the couch when I held the rolled paper above me and jumped toward him.

I laughed and followed Ignazio to the kitchen, where he scooped up a spoonful of soup and handed it to me to taste.

"It's perfect, Ignazio," I said after I had tasted it, handing him back the spoon.

"Excellent," he said, kissing my cheek. Then he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. "Tamzin, I just want you to know how proud I am of you."

"Why?"

"For being the best photographer we've ever had, for the merchandise you've created for us, for getting us all these interviews, for putting up with my silliness-"

I laughed, and he kissed my cheek.

"And especially for deciding to stay with us."

I looked up at him.

"I love working with you guys."

"I know, but you also love your landscapes, and I know it took a whole lot to give that up for us. I'm so glad you're staying. Thank you for being so committed to us. I love you."

I smiled, and he reached for my face to tilt up my chin to kiss me for a long moment. Then he pulled back and we gazed up at each other, sharing a smile.

"Ew, gross!" Piero and Gianluca chimed from the couch, and they laughed and leaped away from me as I raised my calendar and charged, laughing.

The next morning we all woke early and got ready to leave for the airport. Ignazio invited me over to his condo to have breakfast with him and Piero and Gianluca. We talked about the tour and where we'd be going, and I elaborated about the hotels we'd be staying at in the places we'd be traveling to.

After breakfast we rounded up our suitcases and equipment, and we loaded them all into Michele's rental car. Ignazio went with me and got my suitcase for me as I slung my camera bag over my shoulder and looked around the condo one last time, my hand on the light switch.

"I like these condos," I said, and Ignazio smiled.

"Me too, Tamzin. We stay here almost every time we return to Los Angeles. We'll be back here eventually."

I nodded and flipped off the lights, stepping onto the porch and closing the door.

"This is gonna be good!" I said, clasping my hands together as I followed Ignazio down the porch steps, the same place I had first met him.

It was time again to live solely in hotel rooms, hang out on planes, and spend days on the sets of various television programs. Though we were constantly on the move, it wasn't as tiring for the boys as the concerts had been. They were generally laid-back and cheerful as we traveled from city to city, completing interviews and appearing on different programs. I always accompanied Barbara and Michele to the interviews and watched the boys from backstage lounges.

They were brilliant onscreen, their cheerful candor capturing the attention of the audiences, and their singing mesmerizing them. They behaved just as I had imaged they would, Ignazio being entertaining and eager, Piero telling his stories and playing with Ignazio and the hosts, and Gianluca being calm and suave. People loved the boys, and the numbers of people included in the social media groups began to grow rapidly, to my delight.

I was sure to post many backstage pictures of the boys for the fans, and I started a countdown to the release of the CD that the people seemed to enjoy, responding eagerly to my updates and posts.

I encouraged the boys to be active in social media as well, to seem more approachable, and with the help of Barbara and Michele we scheduled some public meet-and-greets in various cities for after the release of the CD.

Though I spent most of my time working on things for Il Volo, I also occasionally found time to slip away and go out to get my landscapes, which Ignazio loved to see whenever I returned.

When we traveled by plane, Ignazio would sit beside me and watch as I worked diligently on the documentary, which came closer and closer to being finished as the August days passed.

As the boys completed more and more interviews and radio program appearances, I watched with Michele as the amount of pre-orders for the CD grew higher and higher.

"This is amazing!" he said one evening in mid-August as our group ate together in his hotel room. "This is the biggest demand for pre-orders we've ever had!"

"Why is that?" Ignazio asked, but the way he grinned at me told me what he was thinking.

"I might know how we can make it higher," I thought out loud, and after dinner I gathered them in my hotel room for the premier of the documentary.

I set up my laptop on the coffeetable and started it, and then settled down beside Ignazio to watch the finished product for the millionth time. The documentary was an overview of how the CD was made from start to finish, including interviews, sound clips, and shots of the boys playing around in the studio, as well as discussing the production of the CD with the producers. I ended it with a clip of one their interviews announcing the release date of the CD and showing the boys holding up copies in the studio and smiling.

The screen fell dark, and I waited for my response.

"I love it!" Michele said finally, and when the boys and Barbara enthusiastically agreed I sat up and clasped my hands together, laughing excitedly.

"Good! I'm glad!"

"Tamzin, can you post it on our social media sites for the fans to see?"

"I have a better idea."

I explained how I had been in contact with Gatica and Renis about it, and they suggested we announce the documentary in interviews, and I'd release it online a few days before the CD's release to get people interested in ordering it.

Michele smiled and shook his head.

"Tamzin, I don't know why I tell you you don't know what you're getting into, because obviously you do!"

I laughed as Ignazio hugged me eagerly from behind and kissed my cheek.

So we announced that soon we'd be releasing the documentary free online, and I watched as more and more subscriptions to our Youtube channel flowed in, along with an increase of people on social media pages and increasing pre-orders.

Ignazio and I watched together as their interviews were aired on TV, and I always kissed him and told him that he performed brilliantly on TV.

He was especially happy and playful ever since I'd told him I signed the contract at the beginning of the month, and he could never resist singing and dancing with me and trying always to make me laugh.

The boys' popularity in the media grew, and before I knew it Michele was sitting us down to tell us many new programs were contacting us to have the boys on for interviews.

Seeing how well the U.S. was responding to the boys, Michele decided to extend and split the promotional tour.

"We'll finish the Tamzin-arranged U.S. tour in early September, and then we'll go to Latin America for a while before we'll come _back_ to the U.S., and then finish up in the Latin American countries."

"I'm game," I said, shrugging, "As long as we can continue the U.S. popularity, let's do it!"

"Brilliant!" Ignazio said from beside me on the couch, and I laughed and hugged him.

"Okay," said Michele, scribbling notes onto his calendar, "Tamzin, I'll get you the calendars ASAP."

"Yes!" I said, throwing my fist into the air, and the three boys laughed.

Several days later, I awoke in my hotel room to Ignazio pounding on the door and calling, "CD RELEASE DAY CD RELEASE DAY CD RELEASE DAYYAYAYAY!"

I laughed and jumped out of bed in my t-shirt and shorts and tore into the living room of the suite, grabbing my camera and opening the door.

I laughed as I filmed Ignazio's happy-dance in the hallway, and then I shrieked and held the camera over my head when he grabbed me around the waist and carried me to the sofa, dropping me onto it and then jumping on top of me to cover my face in kisses.

"What a great day!" he cried, jumping up and reaching down to pull me up too.

"THE CD'S OUT THE CD'S OUT!" I whooped, and he laughed and started happy-dancing again as Gianluca and Piero appeared in the doorway, and then laughed when they saw Ignazio.

"Come on, guys, do a happy-dance!" I called to them, and then ran backwards to get the three of them in the shot as they all danced wildly around the room.

"Brilliant! That'll make an excellent GIF for the fans!" I said as I shut the camera off and put it down on the coffee table, and then I shrieked when the three of them raced toward me, laughing and reaching out to grab me as we tore around the hotel room and down the hallway to wake Michele and Barbara, yelling, "CD RELEASE DAYYAYYAYYAY!"

"Wow," Michele said in the cab heading toward the airport as he reviewed the sales information on his phone. It was September, and the CD hadn't even been out for a month. "This is the highest sales we've had of a CD in such a short period of time."

"They're movin' on up!" I exclaimed happily, putting my arms around Gianluca and Ignazio, who were sitting on the sides of me. "Taking the world by storm!"

"Yeah!" Gianluca said back, putting his arm around me in return, and Ignazio kissed my cheek.

"Thanks to you, my dear. You're the one who helped us get all this publicity."

"Well, _I'm_ not the singer!" I said, letting go of them and clutching my camera in my lap again. "I just know what I want and I go for it, and I want you guys to get the attention you deserve! I just wish we weren't headed to Latin America, though. I want to stay in the U.S. and keep you in popular opinion!"

"Oh, don't worry, Tamzin," Michele responded from the front seat of the cab, "The shows still have to finish airing all the interviews they filmed, which will supply the country with enough of our boys to last until we return!"

"I guess so," I agreed, leaning back in the seat against Ignazio's arm.

"We have to pay attention to the Latin countries, too, Tamzin," Ignazio reminded me, "They've done so much for us. And think of all the beautiful landscapes you'll be able to get!"

"Yeah, I guess so. But that still doesn't change the fact that I don't speak Spanish."

They laughed.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

I sat in my hotel suite in Costa Rica on October 2nd, finishing up Ignazio's video for his birthday on October 4th. It was almost finished, and I loved how it had turned out. I had a lot of footage to choose from in all my hours of taping the boys in the studio over the past few months, and I also had an infinite number of fan-made greetings and birthday wishes to present to him.

It was too bad, though, that he had so much to do on his birthday. First Il Volo had an appearance on a Costa Rican news program in the morning, then they would head to another news program for a quick performance, and after lunch they had two radio interviews to complete, both in-studio. In the evening, though, we were going to have a small party for Ignazio in Barbara's suite, with dinner and cake and happy conversation.

When I woke on the morning of his birthday, I felt strange. I couldn't understand what it was, but as I got up and got ready to head for the studio, there was a strange, subtle instability that permeated my body. I did my best to ignore it, and when Ignazio came over I forgot about it completely as I leaped into his arms and covered his face in kisses as I sang happy birthday to him.

"…Dear Ignazio…Happy Birthday to you!"

I pulled the flash drive with his birthday video on it out of my pocket with a flourish and held it out it to him.

"Alright!" he said eagerly, taking it from me and hugging me. "I can't wait to watch it! I'll save it for tonight, when we're all together at Barbara's, okay?"

"Sounds great!" I said, and then I got my camera and we walked out of the hotel room arm in arm, headed to the studio of the news place.

I sat in the lounge of the studio and watched the boys have their interview, talking quietly with Barbara as I took pictures of the monitor every once in a while.

After some time of sitting still on the couch, though, the strange feeling returned, a small fluctuation through my body. I sat still, watching the monitor and wondering about it.

Was I uneasy about anything? I didn't think so.

I tried to detect exactly where the feeling was coming from, but couldn't decipher it.

As the day wore on, the feeling persisted, and I began to feel a little fatigued. I had stayed up late the night before putting the finishing touches on Ignazio's video, and I decided that I must be tired. I wondered when I'd have time to take a nap.

In the afternoon, when we went to the last radio studio for the boys' final interview, I felt weary and cold.

"You have a funny look on your face," Ignazio observed quietly to me as we sat in the studio waiting for the boys to be summoned into the sound booth. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," I said cheerfully, smiling at him. "I'm just cold. And a little tired, too, but that's all."

"I brought along a jacket, but I left it in the rental car," he said. "But Michele has the keys if you want to get it."

"Actually, I think I will," I said, and when the boys left to go into the booth I went out to the car, leaving my camera in the guardianship of Barbara.

I wrapped Ignazio's fleece-lined jacket tightly around me, but I was still cold as I sat in the studio beside Barbara. As I held my camera, I felt the coolness of the metal on my hands, and I set the camera down beside me and looked down at my palms, feeling the pressure where I had been holding my camera. My hands felt weak, and I began to think about the bones under my skin and the joints between them, and I opened and closed my hands thoughtfully.

"What are you doing?" Barbara whispered.

"You ever think about the bones in your fingers?" I asked, and then began to feel a little nauseated as I said it.

"What?"

"Never mind."

I reached out to pick my camera back up, but felt the weakness and the bones in my fingers and took my hands back into my lap, clasping them together to warm them up so maybe I could forget the weak feeling.

The boys finished the interview, and when they came out, smiling and energetic, I stayed quiet and still as they came to us and said they were ready to go. I rose quietly from the couch and was forced to pick up my camera, which suddenly seemed heavier than usual. I winced as I thought about the bones in my weak hands, and then Ignazio came beside me.

"You've been quiet. How'd I do?"

I nodded and offered him an encouraging smile.

"Did we mess up all the promotional work you and Michele did?" Piero asked teasingly, stepping up to the other side of me, and I shook my head and smiled at him too.

"What, no sass?" he asked, smiling, and I winced as we stepped out into the blinding sunlight and wished it would go away.

I was quiet as we drove back to the hotel room, feeling the weakness spread from my hands up my arms into my chest, and I wearily leaned my head against Ignazio's shoulder and closed my eyes.

"Hey," he said gently, placing his hand on my arm, "Are you okay?"

"I'm just tired. I'll take a nap when we get to the hotel."

"Okay. Make sure you do."

When I entered my hotel room, I shrugged off Ignazio's jacket and flopped down on the couch, setting down my camera and closing my eyes.

When I opened them again, it was almost time to go to Barbara's room for Ignazio's little party, and I got up and took a quick shower and changed, then left my suite.

I felt good, and I smiled and kissed Ignazio's cheek when I met him in the hall, taking his hand and skipping playfully with him into Barbara's room.

When we had all gathered in the room, we had dinner- pasta that Barbara had cooked for us, and then we sat around talking for a while until we were ready for cake. We all sang happy birthday to Ignazio, which he bashfully enjoyed, and then Barbara pulled out a bottle of red wine.

"Since it's a special occasion, would anyone like a glass of wine?"

I accepted a piece of cake, and then sat beside Ignazio at the table as he and the other two boys told me of previous birthday celebrations.

"He did a concert on his nineteenth birthday," Piero told me, and Gianluca laughed as he remembered.

"Yeah, and we brought out a cake for him and sang Happy Birthday in Italian. His cake had the kind of candles that re-light themselves, and after trying to blow them out a few times he turned them upside-down and shoved them into the cake!"

"Brilliant!" I said, and we all laughed.

"And then he got cake on his pants and ran offstage to clean it," Piero said teasingly, and I turned to Ignazio.

"You did not!" I said, but his small smile proved him guilty. "Oh, Ignazio!"

We all laughed, and Piero said, "It's true! The whole thing's on Youtube!"

"Well, then I have to look this up!" I said, and Gianluca immediately handed his phone to me.

"Here, I pulled it up already!"

I laughed and took it, and then Ignazio and I bent our heads together to watch it, and I laughed and kissed his cheek as we watched the scene unfold.

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed, and he laughed.

After our cake, we all gathered in the living room to talk, and I sat between Ignazio and Gianluca on the couch. As Michele was telling them about the response to some of the interviews they did in the U.S., the weird feeling returned to me, stronger than before.

All of a sudden, I felt tired and weak, and I only feigned interest in what Michele was saying.

"Isn't that great, Tamzin!?" Ignazio asked, putting a hand on my knee, and I stopped myself from wincing.

"What?"

"People loved our interview on the Ellen show! Ellen says she wants us to come back soon, maybe if we want to announce a tour or something!"

"Oh…good," I said, smiling, and he turned back to Michele and asked something I didn't pay attention to.

I sat quietly on the couch and tried to listen to the conversation, and after a while Gianluca turned to me and said, "So Tamzin, can we see the birthday video you made for Ignazio?"

"Oh, I have it here," Ignazio said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the flash drive as he smiled brightly at me. "Barbara, can I borrow your laptop?"

"In the bedroom," she said across the room from the kitchen, and Ignazio got up and went into the bedroom attached to the suite's living room to get it.

As he did, I got up and went to the kitchen, where I sat on a barstool, separating myself from the action across the room.

"Hey, Barbara," I said quietly as I watched her save the cake in plastic containers.

"Hey, Tamzin, I know you didn't want a full glass of wine, but would you like to try a little bit before I pick up the bottle?"

I shrugged.

"Sure, I guess so."

She handed me a glass, and I reached out for the bottle and touched it, but then took my hand back when I felt the weakness in it. I looked at it and winced when I thought about the bones inside my fingers.

"Tamzin?" she asked, giving me a strange look, and I wrapped my fingers around the bottle and lifted it, grateful that it was lighter than I imagined.

Ignazio came back a moment later and set the laptop on the coffee table.

"Tamzin, come here and sit with me!" he said, turning and smiling brightly at me.

"That's okay, I'll just watch from here," I said.

"Oh, come on, my dear!"

"She's just being modest about it," Piero teased, but I barely heard him.

"I've seen it enough," I said, watching Barbara take the bottle of wine and bring away from the cabinet.

The boys relented and gathered together around the laptop with Michele, and Barbara left the kitchen to watch it with them.

I sipped the wine, and found it strong and bitter. I made a face, but a pleasant warmth ran through me, and I looked down into the deep red liquid. I felt weak and tired, and I rested my chin in my hand, deciding to go straight to bed after the party.

I closed my eyes for a moment, but then opened them immediately when the five of them laughed. I smiled when Barbara looked back at me, and then I curiously sipped the wine again, feeling the warmth run through me. I sat quietly leaning against the cabinet, sipping every so often and watching them enjoy the video from behind.

The weakness inside me strengthened steadily, and as the video neared its end I lowered down my glass and realized that the warmth from the wine wasn't fading, and it wasn't pleasant anymore. I felt very weak, and the heat within me felt very uncomfortable. I was so weak, and it felt as if it took a lot of strength not to drop the wine glass on the floor. I carefully set it down on the cabinet and rested my head in my hands. I lifted my head when they all laughed at something in the video, and the heat suddenly felt stifling and unbearable. I stepped down from the stool intending to find the air conditioner and turn it on, and for a moment I thought I was going to fall. I caught myself, but then I felt so weak that I wanted to get away from the party, if only for a moment. I saw the open door to the bedroom and walked dizzily toward it, entering the dark room and shutting the door quietly behind me. In the dim lighting I saw a saw a chair against the wall and I went to it and sat down heavily, leaning my head back against the wall. I was glad to be away from all the noise, and I breathed loudly in the darkness as I wished the heat would subside.

"Mmmm…" I moaned softly to myself, bearing the discomfort of the heat. I closed my eyes, giving in to the weakness and the fatigue, waiting for the feelings to pass.

They didn't, and after a minute I heard the music from the video fade away and everyone talking eagerly about it. Then I heard a confused commotion and my name being said, but I was too weak to move or speak or even open my eyes.

"Tamzin!?" Ignazio called, close to the door, and I wanted to call back to him but couldn't. I heard him say something about going across the hall to my suite, and Barbara and Michele agreeing with him. I heard the door to the hallway and the door to the balcony open simultaneously and my name being called searchingly.

Then after a few moments I heard the door to the bedroom open slowly, and I saw the light pouring in from the living room behind my lids. It was enough to persuade me to weakly open my eyes and turn my head slightly to see, and I saw Piero peer into the room, Gianluca behind him.

"Tamzin, there you are!..Tamzin?" Piero said, and then the two of them rushed over to me, flinging the door open wide and letting in the blinding light.

"Tamzin, are you okay?" Gianluca asked urgently as they knelt in front of the chair, and Piero touched my arm and then pulled his hand back suddenly.

"Ignazio!" he called, getting up and hurrying to the doorway as I closed my eyes again, "Barbara! Michele! Come quickly!"

Gianluca inched closer to me, resting his hand on the knee of my jeans, and I allowed my eyes to close.

"Tamzin, what's wrong? Talk to me!"

"Mmmm…" I murmured weakly, and then when I heard feet thundering down the hall and into the suite I opened my eyes and saw Ignazio appear in the doorway, looking scared as Piero followed behind him.

"Tamzin!" he said, and Gianluca moved quickly to my side as Ignazio hurried forward and crouched in front of the chair. "Tamzin, what's wrong!?"

"Too much wine," I muttered, and he shook his head.

"Yeah, right. I'll bet you didn't even have half a glass."

Piero crouched on the other side of me and the three of them were looking up at me in the dim lighting. I saw Barbara and Michele appear in the doorway as Ignazio reached up toward my face. He took my face into his gentle hands, and they were blissfully cool as they held my face, moved down around the back of my neck, and then went back up to my face.

"Mmmm…" I murmured, closing my eyes. "Feels good."

"Tamzin, you're burning up!" he said.

"Let me see," Barbara said, and a moment later she laid her hand on my forehead. "Yikes," she murmured, and I opened my eyes a little to see Ignazio stand up and move to the side of the chair as Gianluca got out of his way.

I felt his arms move around my back and under my legs, and I looked down at the ground moving away as I was lifted and held gently in Ignazio's arms.

"Come on, my dear," he said gently, and everyone moved out the way as he carried me out of the darkened bedroom and into the bright living room. I turned my face into his shirt, away from the light, and Piero and Gianluca ran along beside him, opening doors so the trip would be as smooth and gentle as possible. I had left the light on in my suite, and now regretted it as we entered the bright room. Ignazio carried me into the thankfully dark bedroom and pulled back the covers on the bed before he laid me very carefully atop them. I closed my eyes and felt a wave of weariness overwhelm me, and I heard Ignazio move away from my side.

"Ignazio?"

"Shhh…relax, my dear."

I felt him begin to take off my red high-tops.

"I double-knot them," I feebly managed to whisper.

"I know," he whispered back, "This isn't the first time I've done this, remember?"

_Oh, yeah, that's right,_ I thought.

"Ignazio?"

"Yes?"

"Happy birthday."

He paused in taking off my shoes, and I felt him smooth back my hair and very gently kiss my forehead.

"It's okay. I love you, Tamzin."

"I love you, too."

He went back to taking off my shoes, and a moment later I heard someone come in and him asking softly, "Hey, Barbara, you have a thermometer, don't you?"

"Right here," she said, and Ignazio brought it to me and told me to hold it under my tongue, which I did.

I felt another hand on my face, and Barbara whispered, "How long have you been feeling bad?"

"I felt funny this morning."

"You could have stayed here."

"It wasn't bad. And I had to work."

"Oh, sweetheart."

"Barbara, I'm so hot," I whispered feebly with the thermometer in my mouth, and I heard Ignazio leave the room, having successfully removed the high-tops.

Barbara closed the door and locked it behind him, and then she carefully helped me take off my jeans and change into pajamas. She opened the door for Ignazio and set the clothes on top of my suitcase, then came back and sat on the side of the bed.

"Don't worry, Tamzin," Barbara said softly, touching the back of her hand to my cheek. "I'm going to make sure you get better."

"Can Ignazio take care of me, too?"

"Of course, my dear," he said from the doorway, and Barbara moved for him to sit beside me instead. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, and then one of them took the thermometer from my mouth.

I opened my eyes and saw Ignazio holding a damp rag, which he gently wiped my face and neck with, then folded and laid it on my forehead. The cool water felt great, and I sighed softly in relief at the momentary release from the heat.

"What is it?" he asked, moving away from the bed.

"A little over a hundred-three," came Barbara's response from outside the door.

"Oh wow…Should we bring her to the hospital?"

"No, we'll just give her some Ibuprofen and keep an eye on her."

They both came back into the room, and Ignazio sat on the side of the bed and flipped over the cloth on my forehead.

"Is she okay?" I heard Michele ask, entering the room, and I opened my eyes for a moment and saw him standing in the doorway with Piero and Gianluca beside him, watching me curiously.

"I think she has the flu," Barbara said.

"The fluuuu?" I moaned, and Ignazio took my face in his blissfully cool hands, quieting me instantly.

"Shhh…it's okay, my dear."

"Oh, yeah," Gianluca remembered, "She didn't get a flu shot with us when we were in New York."

"I believe her exact words were: "Mass immunization is oppressive"," Piero said, and when I didn't even open my eyes to glare at him, he observed softly, "Gosh. She must be really sick."

"Yes, so don't tease her," Ignazio insisted.

"How long do you think it'll last?" Gianluca asked softly.

"Few days, probably," Barbara answered, and I moaned again.

"Shhh…shhh…it's alright," Ignazio said softly, leaning closer over me as he tried to soothe me.

I opened my eyes and looked at all the people gathered around in the little hotel bedroom, and suddenly felt self-conscious lying on the bed in my pajamas.

I mustered my strength and pointed to the door.

"Everyone out," I said weakly, but as clearly as I could, and they looked at me in surprise.

"She's right," Michele said after a moment, "We _are_ crowding her. Let's go, boys."

"Except you," I said, reaching up clumsily and wrapping my hand around Ignazio's arm. "You can stay, Ignazio."

"Thank you," he said, and I heard the smile in his voice.

I heard everyone file out, murmuring get-well wishes to me, but I was too weary to respond. Ignazio's cool hands were still cradling my face, and I closed my eyes and enjoyed his cool touch.

"The Ibuprofen's in the luggage somewhere. I'll go and find it, and then you can give it to her, okay?" Barbara said.

Ignazio agreed softly, and I heard her leave. I reached up weakly and wrapped my hand around Ignazio's arm again, lifting up my chin and begging silently for him to move his cool hands down to my neck again, and he obliged, to my relief.

I opened my eyes after a minute when he took my face in his hands again and saw him watching the doorway, the light coming from it enough to illuminate his dark, silky hair, the deep brown eyes, the thick brows and sweet, worried expression. He turned his gaze down to me and found me looking up at him, and he smiled slightly, encouragingly at me, and then gazed at me, moving his hands from my cheeks. He rested one hand lightly on my arm and he touched the back of his other hand lightly to my cheek. I gazed up at him for a moment, taking in the image of him, and then allowed my eyes to close.

"Ignazio?" I asked after a minute, breaking the quiet.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

My voice was very soft and weak, and he leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose.

"I love you too."

"Ignazio?"

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you worried you'll get the flu too?"

"Nah. I got the flu shot. Even if I did, it'd be short. But it doesn't matter. I intend to take care of you."

"Oh, good. Does that mean you'll stay with me tonight?"

"Absolutely."

"Thank you. Can you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Can you sing to me?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then he moved and knelt beside the bed, taking my hand in his. He was so close to me, and his voice was the only sound in the room, helping me to focus only on that and not on the discomfort of the illness.

_"Questo amore splendido…Questo immenso senso di felicita…Lo devo solo a te…Questo amore splendido…Questo immenso desiderio dentro me…"_

Soon I was dozing, still faintly listening to him, and he awoke me to get me to take the medicine.

He took the cloth from my head and left the room, and he and Barbara talked outside for a minute as I longed for him to come back. He did soon enough, bringing with him Barbara and the cloth, which he had wet again. He laid it on my head as Barbara went around to the other side of the bed and kissed my cheek.

"Ignazio will stay in here with you, Tamzin. I'll be in the living room. The doctor will come to see you in the morning, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm."

She turned on the closet light and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

It was silent in the room, and I realized Ignazio had not sat beside me when he laid the fresh cloth on my head. I reached out with my eyes closed and felt nothing.

"Ignazio!?"

"Right here," came his voice from the window, and I relaxed. I heard him come around the bed and sit beside me. "I'm not going anywhere, Tamzin. You just relax and go to sleep, and get better, deal?"

I wearily lifted up my hand, and he took it and kissed it, then began to sing again.

_"Questo amore splendido…Questo immenso senso di felicita…Lo devo solo a te…"_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

I woke late into the morning underneath the blankets, and after a moment I remembered shivering during the night and being coaxed to slip my feet underneath the sheets so I could be covered.

I also recalled the compress on my forehead being changed twice and having my temperature taken again early in the morning.

I opened my eyes and then closed them again against the bright light of the window.

I still felt unbearably hot, and after a moment of mental persuasion I kicked the covers off and lay still, letting the weariness wash over me. I felt so weak, and I didn't even bother to open my eyes when the door opened quietly and then closed.

I listened as the figure crossed the room and then sat on the side of the bed. The person leaned into me and softly kissed my cheek, and I took in his scent.

"Ignazio," I whispered weakly, comforted by his presence.

"Hey, my dear, how are you feeling?"

I groaned feebly.

"That's what I thought. Here, take the thermometer."

I opened my mouth and let him slip the thermometer under my tongue.

"Ignazio, please let the curtains down. It's too bright."

He immediately obeyed, and then came back and sat next to me, taking my face in his hands.

"Your cheeks are red, and you still feel hot."

"I feel as though someone has used my body as a tea steep and dunked me in boiling water a few times."

"Hmm…good metaphor."

I didn't bother to tell him it was a simile.

"This is really going to last a few days?" I groaned.

"Shh…shh…you're okay. It'll be okay. Just relax. Wait a few minutes and we'll see what your temperature is. Are you hungry?"

"Far from it."

"Okay. Just relax."

He took my hand and held it quietly as I lay on my back, eyes closed as I bore the stifling heat.

Soon he took the thermometer from my mouth and shielded my eyes with his hand as he pulled back the curtain over the window to read it.

"Back up to one-hundred three," he said softly, and then dropped the curtain. "I'll get you some medicine from Barbara."

When he closed the door behind him and the room was dark once more, I opened my eyes and looked around. I lifted my head slightly and saw a blanket and a pillow on the carpet beside the bed, Ignazio's shoes beside mine next to the door.

I smiled softly and lowered my head back onto the pillow, and after a minute he was back.

"Here," he said, and I weakly took the pills he offered me and then handed him back the glass of water, which he set beside the bed.

We were quiet, with him sitting beside me and gently smoothing my hair again and again, gazing down at me.

I felt hot and weak and tired, and I didn't feel like doing anything other than lying there in the dim room with Ignazio beside me. But as I closed my eyes and let Ignazio stroke my hair, I thought about what having the flu would mean for the next few days.

"Ignazio?" I asked wearily, "We have to go tomorrow morning."

"What?"

"Il Volo has to leave for Nicaragua tomorrow, for the next round of interviews."

"No, Tamzin."

"Yes, early tomorrow morning, we have to go, remember?"

"Yes, I know that's the plan, but…"

"What will happen?"

"We'll change the plan. I'll talk to Michele…We'll figure something out."

I didn't understand this, and I felt like he was just trying to get me to stay calm, but I relented.

"Okay."

I really didn't feel like thinking, and I hung onto the promise that they would figure something out, a plan that I'd be happy with as well as them.

I felt listless and exhausted, and neither the ideas of landscape photography or working for Il Volo appealed to me at the moment, which was how I knew I was really sick. I only wanted to feel better.

Even so, I knew that when I eventually was better I would regret the working opportunities lost to days of illness, and so I said softly, almost in a whisper, "I should work."

Ignazio leaned closer to me.

"Hmm?"

"I should work. Can you bring me the laptop?"

"No."

I was quiet, thinking about that, and it didn't bother me. I didn't feel like working, anyway. But then I sighed and opened my eyes to look up at him.

"I really should do some work. There's so much to be done…pictures to post, responses to see…"

"It can wait, my dear. You should just rest."

"I don't know…"

"Tamzin, it's okay. It can wait a while."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

I closed my eyes, exhausted from the conversation, and he leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"I don't think I've ever given up so easily," I said quietly, and he laughed softly.

"Well, you're sick. But it was a nice try, anyway."

"Thanks. Ignazio, I just feel so horrible…Everything hurts…"

"You're okay, Tamzin. You're alright…Just relax…"

Listening to his comforting murmuring, I fell asleep, with him still sitting beside me and stroking my hair. He was tracing my hair back from above my temple to behind my ear over and over again, the motion gentle and comforting.

It wasn't long before the doctor was there, being led into the room by Barbara and Michele. They came and sat beside the bed, and I wearily watched the strange man come to the bedside and look down at me.

"Hola," he said, smiling at me.

"Hola," I responded weakly.

He put his hand on my forehead as he began to speak in rapid Spanish, and I watched his lips moving, wondering how someone could speak so fast. Then he paused and looked expectantly at me.

"Uh…no hablo espanol."

He smiled and looked up at Barbara, who began to speak in rapid Spanish back to him. It was somewhat dizzying to listen to, and I looked up at Ignazio, who smiled softly back down at me, and I tuned out the conversation.

After a minute everyone left the room, and I was left alone for a few minutes.

I opened my eyes and watched the people moving around outside through the crack in the door, listening to the faint snatches of conversation. Soon it opened and Ignazio came back in, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"So?" I asked, when he was sitting beside me again on the mattress.

"You have the flu."

"Well, I knew that already."

"But now it's confirmed."

"Brilliant," I muttered sarcastically, "What else is new?"

"Gianluca and Piero want to see you."

"They do?"

"Yes. They're worried about you."

"Okay. Send them in, I guess. I'm not stopping them."

But even as I whispered it, my eyes were closing, and I was feeling very drowsy. Ignazio leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"Sweet dreams, Tamzin."

When I awoke again, I heard people talking outside the closed bedroom door, and one by one I identified the voices of Michele, Barbara, Piero, Gianluca, and Ignazio. I opened my eyes, confused, and found that I was alone in the bedroom, the door shut completely. I was surprised to hear another voice, and this one I couldn't identify. I listened, confused, and then heard Ignazio start to speak again, but this time his voice was raised, and Barbara hushed him after a moment.

Michele began to talk again, calmly but rapidly, and I lifted my head and looked at the closed door. After a minute of mental persuasion and arguing with myself, I sat up and then slowly got up from the bed, tiptoeing to the door and leaning exhaustedly against the wall to wait for the dizziness to fade.

Their voices were clearer, and I could hear Michele saying something about staying in Costa Rica for a few extra days.

I placed my hand on the cool doorknob, and after a deep breath I turned it as quietly as I could and opened it a crack, putting my eye to the slit and peering into the living room.

The five of them were gathered around Michele's cell phone, which explained the unfamiliar voice. It was flat on the coffee table, on speaker phone, and Michele and Barbara sat together on the couch in front of it. Gianluca and Piero sat in chairs nearby, looking deep in thought as Piero chewed his tongue and Gianluca bit his lip.

Ignazio was pacing back and forth beside their circle, running his hand nervously through his hair as he did so.

"Look," the voice on the phone said, "Michele, the interviews are already scheduled and all the travel is set up. Surely you don't want to waste the trouble you put into arranging all that?"

"No, of course not, but we need to think of priorities here," Michele said, and Barbara nodded approvingly.

"Priorities. Right," the voice said, "Michele, think about it. It's not reasonable to hold back the whole team in Costa Rica for a few days, miss all the interviews, waste all the travel, throw away all the preparations just for this girl! If you must have someone stay with her, then have Barbara take care of her, but don't hold back the whole team!"

"No, we need Barbara with us," Piero said immediately, and Gianluca nodded sympathetically at him.

"Alright, then leave the girl by herself. She _is_ an adult after all, and she'll be alright. Just let her stay behind until she's better, and then she can meet up with you in wherever you are at the time."

Michele sighed and leaned back into the sofa cushions, rubbing his face with his hands.

"No!" Ignazio protested, stopping his pacing, and Michele looked up at him. "We're not leaving her! We can't! Michele, she's a part of our team! We can't just leave her behind!"

"Ignazio, honestly," the voice said, "You need to do what's best for Il Volo. Think about your career."

"She is part of my career!" Ignazio snapped, his voice rising again, "She's a part of the team, and we can't leave her!"

Michele looked at Barbara, who looked back at him, and them Ignazio moved closer to the circle, getting everyone to look up at him.

"Michele, if one of us were sick, we'd have to stop and wait until that person was better!" he said pleadingly, gesturing to himself, Piero, and Gianluca, who watched him quietly. His voice was getting louder and louder, more insistent as he went on, "Why is she any different!? She's done so much for us, and I refuse to just leave her here! How could we even discuss leaving her behind!? No matter what the record company says, I'm a crucial part of Il Volo, and I'm not going anywhere! I refuse to go without Tamzin!"

"Yeah, me too!" Piero said angrily, jumping up beside Ignazio and crossing his arms definitively.

"Me too!" Gianluca said, getting up and standing beside them.

"See! We're not leaving her! We're going to stay here until she's better, no matter what arrangements we have to _throw away_. I don't care what the TV programs think, and I don't care what the radio shows think! Call them and tell them WE'RE NOT COMING! WE'RE STAYING HERE!"

"Yeah!" Gianluca and Piero agreed.

Barbara looked fearfully up at Ignazio, who was yelling now, and then Michele stood up too, his face angry.

"HEY!" he hollered over the boys, and they all quieted. "BOYS! SIT DOWN!"

Gianluca and Piero immediately sat, and even Ignazio backed up at hearing Michele yell.

I opened the door a little wider to see better, peering out into the bright living room.

"WE ARE NOT. LEAVING. HER. HERE!" Michele shouted, and they were all silent for a moment. Barbara reached out and touched Michele's arm, and he sat back down on the couch, looking warningly at the boys.

"Really!?" Ignazio asked, his face immediately brightening, and Michele nodded.

"Michele, really?" came the voice dubiously on the phone, and Ignazio smiled triumphantly at it. "Think about it. Is this really a prudent decision?"

Ignazio started to pace again, back and forth in front of the coffee table, and Gianluca and Piero followed him with their eyes, back and forth.

"I don't care whether or not if it is _prudent_," Michele insisted, and Barbara nodded approvingly at him, "The boys are right. Besides, it'll only be a few days. We won't miss too much. We'll try to reschedule the interviews for after we return from the U.S., and if not… oh well. It'll be okay."

"You know these interviews will be very helpful to the sale of the CD, and if you just left tomorrow like you planned to, you wouldn't have to worry about rescheduling or losing them. Boys, your concern for this girl is very charming, but think about it…She's not a crucial part of the team. She's just the photographer."

I opened the door a little wider and leaned against the doorframe, feeling very drained and struggling to stay on my feet.

"NO!" Ignazio shouted, and I jumped as he whirled and slammed his fist on the coffee table, "She is so much more! You don't have a clue how amazing she is! She never stops working, never stops thinking of us, and we need her! Do you know how we got all those interviews in the U.S.!? Because she got them for us! Do you know why we've gotten so much more social media popularity!? Guess who's managing our accounts for us!? You can't even begin to understand her! Yeah, she's the photographer, no "justs" about it, but she is so much more than that, too!"

He slammed his hand down angrily on the coffee table again, and then the room fell quiet, shocked into silence.

"I'm sorry," Michele said after a moment, reaching forward and picking up the phone, "the boys refuse to leave without her, and there's nothing we can do about that. We'll do what we can to help her get better, and then we'll be on our way when she's ready. I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted, but you'll have to accept it. Besides, the gain in sales she won us in the U.S. makes up for any loss her illness will cause. Good evening, sir."

Then he hung up and smiled at the boys, and Gianluca and Barbara smiled back, but Ignazio still looked angry. I then noticed Piero looking at me from across the room, and as I watched as he nudged Ignazio from behind and motioned to my doorway.

They all turned and looked at me leaning heavily against the doorframe, and I realized in embarrassment I was crying. Ignazio's eyes widened, and for once he was speechless.

"I'm sorry I'm causing so much trouble," I said weakly, my voice trembling as I struggled to speak, "I could travel, if I must. It's okay."

"Oh, sweetheart," Barbara said softly, and Ignazio stepped around the coffee table and quickly crossed the room to me.

"Tamzin, you shouldn't have gotten up. You're too weak."

He came beside me and wrapped an arm tightly around my waist, taking my elbow with the other, steadying me and helping me to forsake the doorframe.

"It's okay, Ignazio. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry we woke you up," Michele said earnestly.

"I guess I did quite a bit of yelling, didn't I?" Ignazio asked, blushing and watching me intently.

"I can travel," I insisted again to Michele.

"Tamzin, you can't travel. You're not strong enough."

"No, Tamzin," Ignazio agreed. "A valiant proclamation, but no, you cannot."

"Yes I can!"

"Alright, then I won't let you," Ignazio said, "How's that?"

I felt light-headed from standing for so long, and I held my hand to my forehead and weakly closed my eyes, beginning to lose my balance.

Ignazio let go of my elbow and then bent to wrap his arm around my legs, blessedly picking me up and allowing me to stop standing.

"Relax, Tamzin."

His voice was mercifully gentle and soft, and when I looked up at him he tenderly kissed my hot forehead and then looked up at everyone.

"Everyone say goodnight to Tamzin."

Everyone softly murmured their goodnights and get-well-soons, probably still stunned from the whole scene, and Ignazio turned and carried me back into the bedroom, shutting the door with his foot.

He brought me to the bed and gently laid me down in it, and I sighed as a wave of fatigue and heat washed over me. Ignazio moved to sit in his usual spot beside me, and he took the thermometer from the bedside table and shook it, and then tapped my cheek wordlessly with it to let me know that he was about to put it in under my tongue. While I waited to hear the height of my fever, Ignazio wiped my tearstains gently with his thumbs and then took my face in his cool hands, and I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

When he saw me looking at him, he leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"For waking you up, for yelling, for making you cry."

"It's okay," I said, and I reached up wearily to take his face in my hands, which I knew were _not_ cool and comforting.

Still, he closed his eyes for a moment at my touch, feeling my hands on his cheeks.

"Thank you for saying those things," I said, and he opened his eyes and smiled.

"I couldn't leave you."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me."

I let my hands fall from his face onto the mattress beside me, and after a minute he took the thermometer from my mouth and got up, going to the door and opening it.

There was still low murmuring going on outside, and I heard the distant voices of Piero and Gianluca. No one had left yet.

"Give her an Ibuprofen, and hopefully it'll be lower in the morning," I heard Barbara say, and Ignazio agreeing. I heard Gianluca ask something softly.

"Okay. Just be quiet," Ignazio said, granting him permission.

"Of course," Piero agreed, and I heard the door open wider and people enter, softly treading across the carpet to the bed.

"Goodnight, Tamzin. I hope you feel better," Gianluca said, the deep cadence of his voice low and comforting. Then he kissed my cheek and stepped away.

"Goodnight, Tamzin. I hope you feel better, too," Piero said, leaning down beside me, "If it makes you feel any better, your illness has won us a few vacation days in the beautiful Costa Rica!"

"Don't worry Tamzin, I'll hit him for you later," Gianluca reassured me softly, and I couldn't help smiling.

"Yes! I made her smile!" Piero said softly, and then kissed my cheek and left.

"Goodnight, Tamzin," Michele said from the doorway, and I waved weakly without opening my eyes.

Ignazio returned with an Ibuprofen and some medicine from the doctor, which I took.

Then Barbara came in and told me she'd be in the living room again, and I told Ignazio to make her go back to her bed, which he was unable to accomplish.

"I'll go back when your fever goes down, deal?" she asked, and then laid her hand on my forehead and kissed my cheek.

"Okay, deal," I said softly, and she left, closing the door behind her. Ignazio got a cold cloth and washed my face and neck, and then laid it on my forehead.

"I love you, Tamzin," he said gently.

"I love you too, Ignazio."

He sat beside me and took my hand, and everything was still and quiet in the suite.

Then he kissed my cheek and whispered, "It's not something I usually sing, but I like it."

Then he began to sing as he stroked my hair, his voice soft and handsome and beautifully comforting, _"Just close your eyes…The sun is going down…You'll be alright…No one can hurt you now…Come morning light…You and I'll be safe and sound…"_


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

In the morning, I felt pretty much the same, if not a little less hot, and I turned my head and saw Ignazio asleep on the ground, lying on his back with his arm draped over his eyes. I smiled, and lay there gazing at him for a long while, until the door opened and Barbara quietly entered.

She smiled when she saw me awake and Ignazio asleep, and she tiptoed over to the bed. She sat quietly beside me and wordlessly took my temperature, reporting that it was a little lower. Then she told me I had to eat breakfast, and she left and made me what she said what unbuttered toast. She got me some more pillows and I sat up and slowly ate was actually just bread. When I was finished and Barbara came in to take away the plate, Ignazio stirred and opened his eyes when she walked past and watched her close the door. Then he looked up at me and saw me looking back, and I smiled at him.

He looked at the clock and then rubbed his face, obviously still tired.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to sleep for so long."

"Come here?" I asked, and he got up and took away the extra pillows and made me lie down. He sat beside me on the bed, and I took his arm and got him to lie down beside me, weakly stroking his thick hair.

"Go back to sleep, Ignazio," I whispered, "It's okay."

Having not slept in a bed in two days, he found it hard to argue, and soon he was asleep and I was dozing beside him.

I did as I was supposed to, dozing most of the day and eating when Barbara brought me food. I was hot and weak and tired, and I enjoyed Ignazio's constant presence beside me.

I was listless and uncomfortable, and as I endured the illness, he held my hand and stroked my hair and talked with me softly or told me stories about former concerts.

Generally, I was quiet and somber, and I liked it best when he sang to me, which he did often throughout the endless day.

In the evening, the listlessness lessoned somewhat and I grew fed up with just lying there on top of the covers and doing nothing.

"Ignazio, can you bring me my laptop?"

I was lying in my usual position, on my back with my face turned upwards toward the ceiling, my eyes closed with weariness. He was sitting beside me, looking out the window at the darkening sky, and he was quiet for a moment.

"No, Tamzin."

"I have some work to do."

"No."

"Ignazio!"

I opened my eyes and shot him as fierce of a glare as I could muster, but it quickly faded. I lifted my head from the pillow and looked pleadingly at him, and he placed a hand cautiously on my arm as if to stop me if I tried to get up.

"No work. You need to rest."

"But there's so much to do! Ignazio, you've told me how important I am to Il Volo, haven't you? Then I need to work! It doesn't matter if I'm sick; I have a job to do! I have pictures to post and people to respond to, and I need to see the response on your birthday video, and…and…"

I was beginning to feel dizzy, and I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. Il Volo was doing so well, and this was not a good time to stop working. The AMAs were fast approaching, and with that thought I opened my eyes and looked pleadingly up at him, feeling the time mockingly slipping away with every second.

"No, Tamzin," he said firmly, and I turned my face away despairingly and closed my eyes.

I felt him lean over to kiss my forehead, and I reached up and weakly pushed him away.

"Oh, don't be upset with me, Tamzin. Right now your job is "professional flu-endurer"."

"No…" I moaned weakly. "Bring…me…the laptop…"

"Tamzin, it can wait! All of it can wait!"

"I don't want it to wait! I hate lying here doing nothing! If I'm going to be so uncomfortable, at least I can get some work done!"

"I know, I know, but you'll get better faster if you just rest and heal!"

"Ignazio!"

Just listen to me for once and go to sleep!"

"But we're so close…I can't give up…"

He was quiet.

"Give up on what?"

I felt dizzy, and as I tried to formulate a response it became clearer to me that he was right; I was in no condition to work. Instead of answering him, I just looked up at him and began to cry.

"Hey," he said softly, beginning to stroke my hair, "Hey, it's okay. Hey… Shh, it's alright, Tamzin…"

"I hate this!" I said, hitting the mattress weakly with my fist. "I hate being sick!"

I sniffed and wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand as tears rolled down the sides of my face and onto the pillow.

"Shh…I know, I know. Soon you'll be better, and you'll be able to work. For now you just need to take a break."

I pressed my fists to my eyes as I cried, and Ignazio gently took them in his hands and moved them away, reaching for my face and wiping away the tears with his own hand.

"Shh…calm down, my dear. Calm down now."

He watched me for a minute as I tried to stop crying, gasping and sniffling and finally quieting down as he murmured soothingly to me.

When the tears had stopped and I had rubbed away their wet traces, I sighed in frustration and glared at the ceiling, knowing the fight was over. I felt drained, but I was determined to work soon, if not now.

"Can I work later?" I asked softly, turning my head to him.

"We'll see. If you rest well and get better."

I was quiet.

"I know you're frustrated, but I'm only trying to help you," he said softly, "I want you to get better."

I nodded, closing my eyes, and this time when he leaned over to kiss me I let him.

"I love you. Soon you'll be able to go back to work, okay? In the meantime, one of the requirements of professional flu-endurer is a lot of sleeping."

"Okay, Ignazio," I said exhaustedly, giving in to him, "I'll sleep like a champion."

"Good girl," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

"I love you, Ignazio. If I move over will you lie next to me again?"

"Yes."

I carefully and slowly moved over to one side of the bed, and Ignazio stretched out beside me, lying on his side and propping himself up on his arm to keep watch over me. I looked up at him thoughtfully, into his sweet brown eyes gazing down at me.

"Piero was right, you know, albeit sarcastic."

"About what?"

"I bought you a few vacation days. You should go out and have some fun sometime."

"Shhh…maybe in a few days."

"In a few days I'll be better."

"Exactly. Now won't you try to sleep?"

I smiled, and then closed my eyes, feeling the heat and the weakness and the weariness wash over me.

"Wake me if something spectacular happens."

He laughed softly.

"Okay, I promise."

He moved closer to me so I could feel him against me, and I gave into the weariness and the heat, my head falling against his arm as I slipped away into sleep.

The next day the fever was even lower, and I insisted on sitting up. Ignazio still wouldn't let me work, and though I was frustrated I couldn't blame him. I asked him to move back the curtains on the window, and I gazed listlessly out of it as he left me so he could eat lunch with Barbara at the table in the living room.

I stared into the landscape out the window with surprising dispassion, and soon I heard Ignazio saying my name as he came quickly toward the bed. He took my face urgently in his hands and turned my face toward his, looking unnerved.

"What?" I asked softly, surprised at his sudden strangeness.

He reached toward the window and put down the curtains, throwing the room back into its dimness.

"Ignazio?" I asked, moving to sit up straighter, and he put his hand on my arm and stopped me.

"Sorry. Your expression just…scared me. It reminded me of a long time ago."

"Oh…I'm sorry. Everything's okay."

I reached out and weakly touched his face, and realized he meant way back when I was constantly listless and bored, never enjoying anything that went on around me, consistently disinterested.

He turned around and lay back beside me against the pillows.

"I just don't feel like me," I said.

"I think I know what you mean," he said thoughtfully.

"Yeah?"

"Tamzin Montgomery is ambitious. She's excited and fast-paced, and…_brilliant_. She works as hard as she can for Il Volo, or she goes out and experiences the world around her and captures it for others to see."

"Yes. She does not lie around in bed all day and do nothing. I just want to get better."

He turned his head to me and kissed my temple.

"And get better you will, my dear. You're still you, just a little subdued. You always do your best, and you defy expectations. Therefore, my dear, rest like a champ and get better faster than anyone would ever imagine, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. And then we can go back to the U.S. and keep going on the promotional tour, and it'll be great! And I won't have the flu anymore!"

"Yes!" he said, and then turned his head toward me, "And when you're not sick anymore, then I can kiss you on the lips."

I laughed so loud that Barbara stuck her head in the door and raised her eyebrows at Ignazio, shooting him a warning look, but then she smiled and left.

"Sorry, I'll try to keep her calm," he agreed, but he stifled a laugh too, and I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, still smiling as he stroked my hair and began to sing softly.

I felt a little better the next day, but I was still pretty sick. I talked with Ignazio and ate when I was brought food and took medicine when I was brought medicine. But I was bored and somber and not very fun to be around, though Ignazio stayed beside me.

In the afternoon I woke from a nap to distant yelling in the hotel's hallway, and I sat up and looked around, fearfully finding myself alone in the room.

"Barbara!? Ignazio!?" There was no answer, and I realized that the noise was actually cheering. I lay back down, relieved, and quickly went back to sleep, until I later heard the door to the bedroom open.

I lifted my head and saw Ignazio peering inside, smiling brightly, his dimples showing and his eyes shimmering eagerly in the dim light.

"Ignazio?" I asked wearily, and he smiled at me, but hesitated in the doorway.

"Oh, did I wake you? I'm sorry, go back to sleep. It can wait."

He started to close the door, but I sat up quickly and shook my head.

"Oh, no it can't! You can't come in here looking all bright-faced and excited and expect to just turn around and walk back out! No way!"

"Are you sure?"

"Get your butt over here!"

"Yes Ms. Montgomery!"

He came into the room and shut the door behind him, then hurried to the bed and sat next to me. His smiled was contagious, and we smiled at each other as I moved over to make more room for him.

"I have some good news," he said, taking my hand. "Michele just gathered us all together to tell us. We wanted to tell you too, but you were asleep and we didn't want to wake you…"

"Okay, so what is it, Ignazio!?"

"Do you promise not to get too excited?"

"No."

"Okay, well do you at least promise not to get up?"

"Yes, yes, okay, so what is it!?"

"Okay. Michele just told us that we…have…been…"

"Ignazio!"

He laughed.

"We've been nominated for an American Music Award!"

I froze, staring at him open-mouthed, my heart beginning to quicken and my mind racing.

"What do you think!?"

"AHHHHHHH!" I screamed, "YESSSSS! It's about time!"

He laughed and pulled me into his arms.

"Shhhh! Shhhh! Barbara's going to come in here and scold me for riling you!"

I hugged him as tightly as I could, and when I pulled back, laughing excitedly, he took my face in his hands and covered it with kisses.

"Oh, it's so good to hear you laughing again!"

"Well, we've got to get back to the U.S. We've got to do more interviews! We-"

I kicked back the covers over my legs and started to get up, but Ignazio reached an arm around me and pulled me back closer to him.

"We will, we will! Tamzin, you promised not to get up!"

"But there's so much to do! I've got to upload pictures and respond to the Il Volovers and see if the fans know and…and…!"

"Tamzin!" I turned my face to him and he smiled and kissed my cheek. "How about I bring you your laptop and let you update the Il Volovers!?"

"Done! Hurry, Ignazio!"

"I'm on it!"

He jumped up and ran from the room as I laughed and clasped my hands together, ecstatic with the news I'd been waiting so long to hear. They were so close… and now more than ever I had to do everything I could to help them get closer.

I obeyed Ignazio and didn't get up again, but I worked diligently on the social media sites, updating fans and responding to posts, informing the world that Il Volo had been nominated for an AMA. There was a lot of excitement among our ever-growing fanbase, and I dove back into the world of social media to spark the fire that would win them their award.

I asked Ignazio the next day if I could talk to Michele, and he came and sat beside the bed and we talked about plans for after we left Costa Rica. He revealed that he had already made most of the arrangements for the short Christmas tour in late November and December, and I scolded him for not including me, promising to look into getting the best theatres.

"Hang on, Tamzin," he laughed, putting a hand on my head. "Relax! You're still sick. Just wait a few days!"

"The fans don't wait!" I protested. "When I get better, Il Volo better watch out! We've got a lot of work to do!"

"Oh, I believe it," Ignazio said from the doorway, and I laughed excitedly, making him smile brightly back at me.

Ignazio let me work, but every once in a while he came and wrestled away the laptop and made me take a nap. He made sure I ate and took my medicine, and he and Barbara watched my fever get lower and lower as I grew gradually stronger.

I even was allowed to leave the bedroom, and I occasionally joined Ignazio in the living room and let him fawn over me as I talked with Gianluca and Piero, until Ignazio insisted I return to the calm of the bedroom.

Two days later, I proclaimed that I was ready to travel, and to be cautious the group made we wait one more day, but Michele scheduled the flight. I packed my bags, and early the next morning it was finally time to leave the Costa Rica hotel. I felt really good, and I was excited and talkative and eager to leave as I had breakfast with Ignazio, Piero, and Gianluca in Ignazio's suite.

Later Michele went around calling, "Okay, everyone! Get your things! We're off!", and Ignazio went with me to get my suitcase and camera bag from the suite.

Piero walked by outside the door pulling the luggage cart, and Ignazio stopped him and put mine on, but I kept my beloved camera with me, holding it tightly against my cheek, determined never to let it go again.

Ignazio and I stood in the doorway of the suite, looking quietly around.

"Finally," I sighed, and he looked down at me, "Time to say goodbye to this wretched suite."

"This wretched suite!?" he teased, "The place where I stayed beside you, watched over you, took care of you, monitored your health, watched you be sad, and worried about your well-being!?"

"Okay," I said, looking up at him with a small smile, "Then let's stay for a little longer."

"No way! We're getting out of here NOW!" he said, quickly scooping me up into his arms and shutting the door with his foot, "I've had more than enough of this place!"

I laughed, and he laughed with me as he carried me down the hallway. I held the camera tightly against my chest and watched the doorway shrink away, smiling as I thought of everything that was about to happen.

"New York City, here we come!" Ignazio exclaimed, and I cheered.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Back to the U.S. we flew, and we kept the promotional tour going. We went from city to city, interview to interview, and the boys were as delightful and charming as ever. The fan group boomed, and Il Volo CDs were flying off the shelves. The response from the public to Il Volo was always remarkably positive, and we were in a happy whirlwind of excitement as we traveled around the country.

Michele and I were planning the Christmas tour, and before long he revealed the plans to have a tour for the new CD, starting late January, and the boys and I were ecstatic.

With all the planning and constant television appearances, I had little time to go out to do landscape photography, though I wanted to whenever I looked out a hotel window over the landscape below.

We finished quickly with our return to the U.S., and then we were headed back to Latin America at a dizzying pace, headed to Nicaragua. I wanted to stay in the U.S. to keep drumming up publicity, trying as best as I could to help them get the AMA.

I dreamed about it, both good dreams and bad, about going with them to the awards show and either watching them get it or watching someone else get it and knowing we were so close.

I knew Ignazio wanted to stay in the U.S. too, and in the airport he gazed forlornly out at the last of the country he would see until we returned in mid-November for the awards show.

"It's okay," I said, moving closer to him and kissing him when he looked at me. "I'll do everything I can to help you get it, even though we won't be here in the country."

He smiled brightly and kissed my cheek.

"It's okay, Tamzin. If we don't get it, I'll still be happy we got nominated."

Then he returned to gazing somberly out the airport window, and I vowed that he must get it. He just had to, and I started wondering if maybe everything I did wasn't enough and wondering what else I could do.

We went to Nicaragua, and I posted pictures and a video of their interview, and then I decided to translate it to English for the U.S. fans and got Barbara to help me. I vowed to translate all the interviews, and Barbara graciously agreed to help.

We would only be in Nicaragua for two days before moving to the next location, and I was constantly wondering in the back of my mind if I'd have time to photograph it. Its thick, dense jungles were dangerously inviting, and I longed to go out and explore and photograph it. From my window in the hotel I could see the lush vibrant green of the plants, the way the earth moved into mountains and dips, and in the distance I could see the blue sky above the land.

When I went to bed on the second night in Nicaragua, I disappointedly accepted that I would not have time to go out.

Until, that is, I woke up early in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I decided to get up, even though our flight wasn't until later and I had time to sleep in. I had breakfast and got dressed, and then I froze in front of the window, watching the sun rising up behind the jungle, casting dark shadows among the plants and towering trees.

"Woa…" I breathed, and then turned and looked around the small hotel room, thinking. I slowly started to pack, wondering if there was any immediate work I had to finish. Finding none, I made up my mind to go out, and I immediately began to rush around the room, packing as fast as I could, the exhilaration stirring inside me.

I strapped on a watch, planning to be back at nine at the latest, since Michele said we'd leave at ten.

Then I leaned my suitcase against the wall beside the door, with my empty camera case on top, and left, deciding that that'd be enough to tell them that I'd gone out.

I pulled on my red high-tops and quietly left the hotel room, stopping myself from laughing as I jogged eagerly down the short hallway.

In less than fifteen minutes, I had run through the city and was sprinting gleefully deep into that jungle, my camera around my neck and my laughter filling the forest as it drew me in. It was enchanting, lush and green and huge, and as I climbed hurriedly over low branches and ducked under vines, I felt exhilarated and alive.

The rising sun provided a multitude of vibrant colors for me, and I took every one of them and captured it on my screen as I made my way through the foliage. No wildlife dared to intrude on my playful romp, and everything bent to my whims as I wove a path through it and moved farther and farther from the hotel, which was already far out of sight.

As the sun rose higher, the light danced on the leaves and made patterns on the ground, playing with me, and I happily captured it all, climbing tress and crouching low to get the best photos. Everything around me was wonderful and mysterious, and I easily made my way through it as though I had been through there a thousand times before.

I was lost to the world, and it was just me and nature, together. I was absorbed in it and it let me be intrigued with it, let me run around inside it and explore its vast expanse of beauty and capture it so I could take the images of it with me and share them.

And I was so far into it, so deep inside the jungle and my thoughts, that I wasn't aware of the passage of time until my watch caught on a branch and with the tug on my wrist, I realized that it was already eight.

"Ohh…" I sighed, leaning against a tree and then slowly sitting down and leaning against it again.

I reached back my hand and rested it on the bark warmed by the sun. I didn't want to leave. I really didn't ever want to leave, but time passed still, unrelenting, and I knew I had to go. I sat there defiantly for few minutes, just being still in the midst of the forest, being somber at the idea of having to forsake all the excitement that I had just experienced. But then as I stood and turned and started to retrace my steps, I thought about returning to the hotel, and I thought about Barbara and Michele and Gianluca and Piero, and Ignazio, and suddenly I didn't feel so sad anymore.

I actually smiled and began to walk quicker.

I kept thinking of Ignazio, his bright smile, his dark silky hair and his dark eyes and dimples, and I laughed in excitement at seeing him again, traveling with him to the next location.

My camera was slung over my shoulder, turned off, containing both pictures of Il Volo and the jungle, and I liked that.

My laugh still echoing through the trees, I turned and smiled at the foliage behind me, and then I bowed dramatically, like Ignazio would do.

"Thank you," I said, blowing a kiss to the forest and laughing again, "But I really must be getting back to my boys."

Then I turned and ran along through the trees, back toward the hotel, smiling as I hopped over roots and ducked under branches, easily navigating through the jungle.

Or at least I thought I was, because after quite a bit of jogging and then walking when I got tired, I still could not see the end of the jungle. Time was passing quickly, and I realized I had gone much deeper into the jungle than I had thought. I kept walking, calming myself, but as eight-thirty came and passed, I started to get nervous. I turned around and looked for a good tree to climb, but they were all so high and leafy that I knew even if I did manage to climb one, I probably still wouldn't be able to see anything.

Maybe I had lost track of where the hotel was while I was darting around trying to get good pictures, and I pressed my hands to my cheeks and took a deep breath, trying to relax. Then I remembered my phone, and I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. No service. Of course, no service in the middle of the jungle. I slid it back into my pocket, trying hard to keep breathing.

I remembered Ignazio's gentle voice in Costa Rica, telling me softly to relax, and I closed my eyes and imaged it as I tried to calm down. Time didn't slow for me to collect my thoughts, and I slowly began to walk forward, thinking.

Well, it wasn't a bad place to be lost. It was beautiful and inviting. Then I thought about that and realized that it was actually a horrible place to be lost, and my breath caught in my throat as I looked up and around me. I was in the midst of a jungle, and I couldn't see anything but the dense green surrounding me, nor hear anything except the stirring of wildlife and my own footsteps in the dirt. I played anxiously with my camera strap as I forced myself to keep going.

Michele had said we'd leave at ten, and it wasn't even nine yet. Still, I knew I should be there when it was so close to the time of departure. At least I didn't have to pack or anything. I could worry later. I had some time to relax.

Somehow, thinking that didn't help me to stop my worrying. What if I couldn't get back to the hotel in time? What if I was walking in the completely wrong direction, and I'd come out in some unfamiliar part of this unfamiliar country!

Then I remembered in horror that I couldn't speak Spanish! Following this came the realization that I also didn't know the long and foreign name of the hotel.

"Oh, geez! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I muttered, distraught as I pressed my fists to my eyes in despair. "Ohhhhh…"

I took my camera from my shoulder and slid to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, my high-tops bright against the rich brown. I held the camera on my lap, rubbing the strap and looking around me as my heart raced, this time not from excitement. I checked my watch and found that it was past nine, and my mind wandered to the worst-case scenario: I didn't get back in time, they waited for me and we all missed the flight, Il Volo missed the interview, our whole schedule was disrupted, they were all upset with me, Ignazio disappointed…Or they left without me, and I was alone in Nicaragua, knowing no Spanish, having little money…Although they would see my suitcase, and they could leave me money. Still, I'd be alone in Nicaragua, and they'd leave. They'd make their interview, but they'd probably be worried about me, and I wouldn't be there to take pictures or update the Il Volovers…

Oh, no! But I had to do that! Every activity was crucial now that they were so close to getting an AMA!

I leaped to my feet, slinging my camera over my shoulder as I began to run. I had no clue where I was headed, but I knew I had to keep going. As I ran, my thoughts began to flow as quick as my feet were moving, and I began to think about a solution.

I was lost in Nicaragua. I didn't know how to get back to the hotel, and I couldn't ask anyone how to get to it. Okay, well the first thing I had to do was get out of this stupid, beautiful jungle.

I abruptly stopped running, almost tripping over my own feet, and whirled around looking for a path. I had seen manmade paths cut here and there into the brush, and if I could find one, it would inevitably lead out of the jungle. I couldn't see one around me, so I started to walk again, keeping an eye out for a worn trail or a decrease in foliage. Now that the sun was up, it was very hot, and after so much running and incessant walking I was getting thirsty and more and more anxious. After several minutes of walking, trying to ease my gnawing worry, I heard water running, and I turned and left my straight line of walking to find a small clearing with a little spring. Beside it was a path.

I was so relieved I almost collapsed into the water, but I caught myself and knelt to take a drink. Then I jumped up, slung my camera sideways over my chest, and began to run again. The path was going back the way I had come, but I reminded myself that now I had a trail to follow. I checked my watch, and found it was almost nine-thirty, and I began to run faster, fear bursting in my chest. I should be back by now! If only I hadn't been so careless!

I was breathing hard and gasping for air, my legs burning, but I didn't stop, anxiety pushing me on along the trail until finally I had to stop. I leaned over, hands on my knees, gasping. My camera dangled from my chest, and it felt heavy as I panted and tried to ease the burning in my chest and in my legs.

As I stood there, bent over after several minutes of constant running, sweat running down my face, I began to cry. I knew it wouldn't help anything, and I shouldn't be bent over here crying when I had so much more running to do, but I cried.

I fell to my knees and then sat down on the ground, wiping my face when my hands and crying as I saw that it was past nine-thirty.

"Ignazio," I moaned through my tears, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't mean to run away. I really didn't."

As I buried my head in my hands, I wondered if maybe they thought I actually had run away. But I left my suitcase and my camera bag!

But I was gone.

I reached up and grabbed a low-lying branch, pulling myself to my feet. I wanted nothing more than to see Ignazio, and I started walking again, beginning to feel hopeless as I stumbled along, tired and anxious and …lost.

My vision was blurred by tears, and I watched my red high-tops plodding along through the dirt as I walked seemingly uphill. But when I eventually looked up and saw more than just trees, my breath caught in my throat and I blinked away my tears.

A road! I could see a road!

I started to run again, instantly regaining my balance as I checked my watch. Nine-fifty. Maybe…if I was just a little late…we could still make the flight…

I burst triumphantly from the forest, throwing my hands into the air and cheering, and then laughing at myself as I sprinted away from the dangerously inviting jungle. At least my _photos_ of it were nice…

I reached into my pocket for my phone, and then froze, wiggling my fingers around in terror. The phone was gone. I whirled around and stared into the forest, and I couldn't see it anywhere on the end of the path. It must have fallen from my pocket when I was running! Resisting the urge to scream and feeling my heartbeat in my throat, I turned away from the jungle.

The land sloped dramatically downward in front of me, I looked around for the hotel, and saw clusters of tall buildings in the distance, but there were so many similar ones that I couldn't identify which was the right one. It had to be over there, though. Everywhere else around me there were just houses and stores, so the hotel had to be one of the tall buildings! But they were so far in front of me… I jogged to the road and started to run beside it, my camera pounding against me over and over again as I sprinted.

I was so tired that I had to stop and return to walking, and I went through neighborhoods and mostly empty roads, approaching the buildings that were so far away as time kept passing, unrelenting.

I walked and walked, but the closer I got the farther away the buildings seemed, and I was so tired… I just wanted to see Ignazio, or Piero, or Gianluca, or Barbara, or Michele… I kept walking, on the outskirts of a tree-filled subdivision, and checked my watch. It was already past ten. I stared at it, and my vision blurred with tears as I saw Michele standing in front of me saying, _"We're going to leave for the airport at ten…"_

I dropped my wrist to my side and stared forlornly ahead of me. I clung to the slight hope that maybe I could be a little late, and I turned and walked up to a tall tree, securing my camera, and then climbed it. I was exhausted, but I held tight to the branches and made it to the top, unharmed, where I could see nicely above the tops of a few neighborhoods. The tall buildings were closer now, and as I looked at them, I recognized one.

The hotel! I was sure of it! It had to be the hotel!

I started to climb down as fast as I could, and I ended up slipping and falling the last few feet, but I landed on my feet and I was okay.

I started to sprint forward again, hustling to get to the hotel, even though I began to feel dizzy. I was so close…If they would just hold on…a few more minutes…maybe…

I ran faster and faster, finally exiting the subdivisions and approached a street that would eventually bring me to the hotel, but then I stopped. I felt as if I was about to fall over, and I took a few steps backward and collapsed onto the grass, falling onto my knees and leaning forward, placing my hands in the grass as dizziness washed over me. I knelt there for a minute and panted and waited for the dizziness to subside.

If I could just keep walking at a steady pace, I could be there by ten-thirty. If I could just keep walking…

I pushed at the ground and struggled to my feet, and felt like I was going to fall again. I just needed to sit for a while and catch my breath. I just needed a few minutes…But there was no time, no minutes to spare, even as I dared to hope that they were still there after I had run away at sunrise and been stupid enough to get lost for hours and hours.

It took all of my energy just to stand, and as I gazed at the hotel stretching farther and farther away from me, I knew I wasn't going to make it. I couldn't keep walking like I had been. If I _was _going to start walking again, it'd be very slowly and cautiously, and then maybe I'd be there for eleven instead of ten-thirty, which definitely wouldn't work.

They couldn't wait so long. The next flight wasn't until tomorrow, and Michele had said how important this tour was for Il Volo's popularity in the Latin countries. They had to go, and I couldn't.

My camera was heavy around my neck and I gazed forlornly at the hotel. Then I took a deep breath and took off my camera, deciding that if I couldn't make it back on time, I might as well stay here and rest for a minute, and then maybe I wouldn't faint.

But I couldn't stop staring at the hotel, thinking maybe there was some way I could get there, but the streets were filled with people who spoke Spanish, and I was exhausted.

Still panting and feeling my heart drumming in my chest, I stared forlornly forward, feeling all last shreds of hope slipping away. There were going to leave. They had to leave.

Then I heard the distant call, and immediately recognized the voice.

"TAMZIN!"

I turned, and through my blurred vision I saw someone running at me at full speed from around the corner of another block.

"TAMZIN!"

"Ignazio," I said, and then I screamed it, "IGNAZIO!"

I started to walk toward him, along the street, and then, momentarily forgetting my exhaustion, I started to run.

"IGNAZIO!"

He was sprinting like a gold-medal Olympian, flying over long strides toward me as he ran through the street, disregarding traffic, and then he was running down the same street I was on, and I was running desperately toward him, but then a twinge of dizziness overcame me and I stumbled and stopped, swaying, and then he was in front of me, his arms pulling me against him and stopping me from falling. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him as tightly as I could, and he hugged me back hard. Then after a few moments he pulled back, holding my shoulders, and covered my face in kisses, finally kissing my lips for a long moment.

"Tamzin?" he gasped, pulling back, "Are you okay?"

I looked up at him, and in response, I just started to cry.

"I got lost… and I was trying to get back…and I had to run for so long, and I can see the hotel, but I-thought-you-were-going to-leave-me, and…I-I-I…"

"Oh, my dear, never! We'd never leave you! Calm down, you're starting to hyperventilate!" he said, pulling me back into his arms and hugging me tight. "It's okay…You're okay…Shhh…Shhh… Calm down."

I closed my eyes and felt him holding me, and he stroked my hair and spoke softly but rapidly as I tried to catch my breath.

"We figured you had gone out to take pictures, and Michele said he was sure you'd be back on time, but then you weren't and you weren't answering your phone…Oh, Tamzin, I was so scared! Are you okay?" He pulled back and looked me up and down, still holding me by the shoulders. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm okay," I gasped, still trying to regain my breath, "I lost my phone. I thought you were going to leave, and I'd be here alone!"

"No, no, no…We didn't leave you in Costa Rica, did we?"

"But being sick wasn't my fault, and this was!"

"Getting lost isn't your fault. Haven't you learned by now that we need you? We're not going to leave you!"

He took my face in his hands and gently wiped away my tears, but I kept crying as I moved closer to him and kissed him, and then kissed him again and again.

"Are you okay now?" he asked, pulling back and looking intently at me. "Are you calm? Can you breathe okay?"

I nodded, and he did too and reached up to wipe away my tears again.

"Okay…good. We _do _need to get back, though," he said, "Michele sent us out to look for you, and he told us to be back at the hotel for ten-thirty."

He checked his watch.

"If we leave now and walk fast, and find a cab somewhere on the road, we might be able make it."

"Ignazio? I can't walk fast."

"What!?"

"I'm so sorry," I said, starting to cry again, "I've just been running everywhere for a long time now, and I'm so dizzy, and I almost passed out a minute ago, and I-can't-walk-fast-I'm-so-sorry!"

He took my face in his hands, making me focus on him.

"Shh... It's okay. Breathe, okay? Just breathe! It'll be alright."

"How?"

He thought for a moment, and then said calmly, "Okay, maybe we can manage to be only a few minutes late, and then maybe we can still make the flight, if we book it to the airport."

"I'm sorry!"

"Hey, it's okay," he kissed me, and I closed my eyes and felt him against me. Then he pulled back and smiled encouragingly at me, "I'm just glad you're safe. I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll walk as fast as I can go, okay?"

He shook his head, and then held out his hand.

"We have to hope we'll happen upon a cab, but for now, give me the camera."

I handed it over, and then he turned around and crouched down.

"Hop on."

I smiled, and he looked back at me and smiled too.

"Really?"

"Really. Come on. We'll walk until we find a cab."

I stepped forward and got onto his back, and he straightened with ease and started back toward the hotel, quicker than I would have been able to walk.

"Tell me what happened," he said, "So when we get back you can sleep and I can tell them."

"Okay," I said softly, and I told him as he walked back. When I finished the story I laid my head against the back of his neck and closed my eyes, and soon I heard him speaking in Spanish and opened my eyes to see him putting me down into the backseat of a cab. When we pulled up to the hotel, there was cheering from our group when they caught sight of me. The four of them were standing in front of the hotel, with two other cabs already packed up and waiting, and Ignazio gently helped me from the cab and set me down on the sidewalk as they all started pelting me with questions.

"Hush!" I ordered, and they did, staring bewilderedly at me. "I'm okay. I was lost. I'm sorry. We have to go, now!"

"She's right, I'll explain on the way," Ignazio agreed, and then he reached a hand under my legs and picked me up, carrying me to one of the other cabs and getting in with me, and everyone followed suit.

"Okay, tell me," Michele demanded from the passenger seat after we took off. As Ignazio started to explain he moved an arm around me and invited me to lean against him, which I did, tenderly kissing his neck and momentarily making him falter in his storytelling. Then I cuddled against him and closed my eyes, quickly falling asleep, oblivious to the race to the airport.

Thankfully, we made the flight.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

"Tamzin, you've barely touched your breakfast. Aren't you hungry?" Ignazio asked me in his hotel room in Los Angeles. We were only staying for a very short time for the American Music Awards, so we had decided not to rent our usual condos.

"Yes, because plane rides are _so exhausting_, huh?"

"So sassy," he said, sipping his coffee, but his eyes shone at me from behind the mug.

"I'm just not hungry. Do you realize the AMAs are in less than twelve hours?"

"Yes, I do," he said, setting down the cup and leaning forward on his arms. "Can you just imagine it, Tamzin!? The boys and I going up onto the stage and getting our award?"

"I never stop imagining it!" I pushed aside my plate and leaned toward him across the table. "Aren't you nervous, though!?"

"I'm too excited to be nervous! Do you realize that nominations are cut off in September!? Our CD just barely made it!"

"It's late November," I said thoughtfully. "That means it's been a year since you told me your dream. American recognition, huh?"

He nodded, his eyes dancing, and he rubbed the lengthening stubble on his chin as he gazed off into the distance. Then he refocused on me and held out his hand, and I took it and squeezed it hard, excitedly.

"Tonight it might come true."

"But you aren't nervous!?"

He laughed.

"Should I be?"

"I'm so nervous," I admitted, taking my hand from him and clasping my hands to my chest.

"Really? Why?"

"I've been thinking about this for so long, trying to get you guys closer to your recognition for so long! All year, I worked on this, trying to help you get your dream, and tonight I find out if your efforts and mine were enough. What if they weren't, Ignazio!?"

He was looking at me strangely, staring intently at me with an incredulous look on his face, and then he pushed back his chair and got up.

"Come see," he said, sounding suddenly serious, reaching down to me, "If you're not going to eat breakfast, come see."

He took me with him to the couch and sat, and then sat me on his knees.

"You've been thinking about this all year?"

"Yes!"

"Are you cold? I could turn on the heater."

It occurred to me that I was shaking, but I shook my head quickly.

"Tamzin, I know you've mentioned before how our work might eventually win us recognition, but I always just thought you were noticing it because it's part of your job-dealing with how the public perceives us. But you've been thinking and working specifically trying to get me my dream?"

I nodded.

"After we watched the Grammies together in February, I made it my mission to help you get an AMA."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve to have your dream, Ignazio!"

He stared at me bewilderedly, and I took his face in my hands, seeing him entirely focused on me.

"You're amazing, Ignazio," I told him softly, "You deserve to have your dream, and it's my pleasure to help you get there."

He stared at me, stunned, gazing into my eyes at a loss for words, and then he reached out and pulled me tightly into his chest, cuddling me to him. He held me silently for a few minutes, and the only sound was the activity in distant parts of the hotel.

Then I said softly, "I hope you get your award, Ignazio. I hope you get your recognition tonight. But if you don't, I will keep working until you do get it, I promise."

"I…love…you," he whispered, and he sounded as if he was crying, or about to, but I couldn't see because of how tightly he held me, so I just stayed snuggled up to him and hoped my efforts were enough to help Il Volo win their award.

In the evening, Barbara did my hair and some light makeup for me in her hotel room, as I sat in my sweatpants and Il Volo T-shirt in front of her mirror.

"There!" she said, smiling approvingly with her hands on her hips. "You are stunning! Just wait until Ignazio sees you! I can't wait to see the dress you said you have!"

"Oh, it's beautiful. I'm sure you'll love it."

I went to my hotel room and changed into the dress Barbara had bought for me to wear to the Christmas party almost a year earlier, the strapless, brilliantly red gown with a wrapped middle that flowed into a long cascade of shining red fabric.

After I had it on, I stood in front of the mirror, smiling at myself, admiring the grandeur of the dress and the perfect, flattering way it fit me. I looked…radiant.

"Tamzin, your gentleman caller has come for you," Ignazio called playfully as he knocked on the door, and I laughed and moved to unlock it.

"Come in," I said, taking a few steps back, and then he slowly opened the door and peered inside. His face lit up when he saw me, his eyes bright, his dimples showing, and he closed the door and leaned against it, gazing at me.

"I figured you'd wear the same dress."

"You figured right."

"You look gorgeous," he almost whispered, and I smiled, gazing back at him.

"And you look so handsome, Ignazio."

He was wearing a white collared shirt under a sleek back jacket, with a brilliant red bow-tie around his neck, with black pants and smart blue shoes. But I was drawn mostly to his face, especially the lower half.

"You shaved," I said, and I walked toward him and took his face in my hands, feeling the smooth softness of it under my fingertips. I kissed his bare chin, lingering there to feel the softness, and he sighed, smiling and closing his eyes.

"I did it just so you would do that," he said, and I laughed and then he kissed me, hugging me tight.

"Barbara made you, didn't she?"

"That too."

I laughed, and he kissed my cheek and then took my hand and spun me around, facing me to the mirror. He put his hand gently on my waist and led me forward, closer to it.

"Since I figured you were going to wear the same dress, I got you something…extra…to go with it."

"You did?" I asked, turning toward him, and he smiled and took my shoulders to turn me back toward the mirror.

"Just admire yourself for a minute while I get it."

I smiled, and in the mirror watched him pull back the side of his jacket and reach into the pocket inside it, pulling out a little box that quickly disappeared behind my back, and he met my eyes in the mirror and smiled as he fumbled with it.

"Okay," he said. "Watch."

Then he lifted up his hands and draped around my neck a dazzling diamond necklace.

"Oh, Ignazio…" I breathed as he fastened the back and then let go. I reached up and gently touched it, felt the cool jewels under my fingers as I stared at it in the mirror. "Is it real?"

"As real as I am to you."

I turned to face him, my fingers still on the shimmering diamonds.

"Brilliant," I whispered, and then I stepped forward and threw my arms around him, pulling him toward me for a long kiss as his arms wrapped around my waist.

"Thank you," I said, when I pulled back. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good. Is another thank-you too much to ask for?"

I laughed and gave him another long kiss, and then I pulled back and smiled up at him.

"Ready to go?" he asked, leaning his forehead against mine, and I felt a flutter of anxiety run through me as my breath caught in my throat. "Hmm…I can tell by the flickering of terror in your eyes that you're not. Tamzin, it'll be okay. There's always next year."

"But you're so close _now_," I whispered, and he nodded.

"I know what you mean. But regardless of whether or not we win tonight, we're going to go out and have fun, right?"

"Right," I said, and then smiled and kissed his freshly-shaven face again. "Okay. Just let me get my shoes on and then we'll go."

He nodded, and then smiled as he watched me go to the door and pull on the red high-tops.

"What?" I asked. "They go perfectly with the diamonds."

After I had taken pictures of the boys in the hotel and uploaded them for the fans, we went to the massive theatre. I watched as the boys had their pictures taken on the red carpet and listened to the frantic reporting and interviewing of the media around me, and I longed for my camera.

I wasn't taking pictures because we figured that all the other photographers had it covered, and Michele wanted me to just experience it, especially since I had worked for so long to try to help the boys get there.

I was very anxious, and I didn't even really pay attention to the huge celebrities walking around everywhere you looked. I was only focused on Il Volo, and I kept thinking, terrifying myself with the idea that we would soon know if Il Volo had won.

"Relax," Ignazio said softly to me when he returned from his interview with Piero and Gianluca. "Are you ready to go in?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said anxiously, returning his brilliant smile, and I took his arm when he offered it to me.

We headed toward the entrance of the building, and as we passed a group of reporters, we overheard one of them remark, "That blonde girl in the red dress certainly seems to walk well in heels, doesn't she?"

Ignazio and I laughed, and I nudged Barbara and said, "See? I told you it wouldn't matter! No one can see the shoes under the gown anyway!"

We were escorted to our seats by the ushers, and the three boys sat together in the row, with me sitting beside Ignazio.

We chatted happily for a while about the celebrities around us, and I laughed as the three boys practically fell out of their seats watching other singers walk by.

"Justin Timberlake! Justin Timberlake!" Piero cried, craning forward, and Gianluca shoved his head down to catch a glimpse of him.

"Where!? Where!? Let me see him!"

I laughed, and Ignazio turned to me.

"Aren't you excited to see the other singers?"

I shrugged.

"Nah. I know the three best singers in the world," and he smiled sweetly and leaned forward to kiss me.

Soon the awards show started, and I managed to forget my anxiety and get absorbed into it. We watched the live performances and Ignazio and I sang quietly along with the songs we knew as we oohed and ahhed over the elaborate shows of the different artists.

Whenever they announced the nominees for an award, Ignazio and I picked who we wanted to win, and then we went crazy if they did win.

"Soon your name's going to be up there!" I exclaimed in realization, gripping his arm and looking up at the screen behind the host.

He nodded, gazing dreamily up at the stage, and I watched him, hoping with all my heart that he was about to win. I grew more anxious by the minute, until I was rapidly tapping my high-tops on the floor, and Ignazio put a hand on my knee to stop me.

"It'll be soon…" he said softly, and I nodded,

And before long, Il Volo's category was introduced: "FAVORITE ADULT CONTEMPORARY ARTIST!"

Everyone cheered and looked to the screen as the nominees appeared and their names were announced.

"IL VOLO!" Everyone applauded as a clip from one of their music videos played, and I dug my nails into my leg as I became oblivious to everything around me but their faces on that screen.

I stared up at it, entranced, unbounded joy exploding within me. Then their image faded, and the joy instantaneously switched to anxiety as the next nominee, their competition, appeared.

"Tamzin," Ignazio said quickly, taking my hand tightly in his, and I broke out of my stare and turned my face to him, getting lost in his dancing eyes. His hand was trembling just as much as mine, but he gazed at me with firm conviction. "Whether or not I get my dream tonight, I love you, and you love me too, right?"

I nodded vigorously, unable to breathe.

"That means more to me than anything I could win."

Then we just stared at each other as the music playing at full volume around us stopped, and there was quiet except for the voice of the announcer. And in that moment, there was only Ignazio and I and the voice.

"The winner…of the Favorite Adult Contemporary Artist American Music Award is…"

There was a pause, and Ignazio and I both broke from our gaze and turned our heads to the stage, gripping the other's trembling hand.

"IL VOLO!"

The crowd and I screamed as the three of them jumped up, and Ignazio released my hand and turned to smile at me for an instant before they jumped into the aisle and went running up to the stage.

I was aware that everyone around me was standing up, applauding them, and I jumped up too and clapped as I laughed excitedly, my voice lost in the roar of the crowd.

They ascended the steps to the stage, and Ignazio received the award, staring at it in awe as his eyes danced in the brilliant stage lighting. Then they moved to the microphone, and Gianluca took the award so Ignazio could pull out a slip of paper from the inside of his coat, the same place where he had kept my necklace.

"First of all, we'd like to thank God for giving us our beautiful voices, our families, who are always supportive of us, our producers, Humberto Gatica and Tony Renis, our managers, Michele Torpedine and Barbara Vitali…"

As he ran through the long list of names, I just gazed at him, smiling as I saw the elation in his face, relishing the way he smiled as he read, until I heard him say, "And finally, Tamzin Montgomery, our photographer who is much more than that, who did so much to help us get here today!"

Then they all leaned into the microphone and shouted in their Italian accents, "We love you all!" and blew kisses to the cameras.

I realized that I was crying, and they crossed the stage to come back down the steps. When they reached the top, they all leaped into the air at the same time, jumping over all the steps and landing on the carpet in the aisle as the audience laughed and cheered, standing up again. Then the boys came down the aisle, laughing and passing around the award as they returned to their seats. Ignazio pulled me up and into his arms, hugging me tightly as he kissed me.

"Ignazio!" I exclaimed as I pulled back, blushing, "In front of all these people?"

"I don't care if you don't," he said, beaming, and then I laughed and threw my arms around him, kissing him and becoming oblivious to the people around us.

Then we had to sit down, and Ignazio took the award from Piero and hugged it to his chest, smiling at me.

"Thank you," he said softly, leaning into me and softly kissing my cheek.

"Hey, you're the one who won it. I just did my best to help."

"Thank you," he said again, leaning in and kissing my neck, and I blushed. "Here, hold it," he said into my ear, and then handed me the trophy. It had a square black base and a clear pyramidal structure on top, with a rounded point that I reached for and fingered curiously. I ran my hand down the side and felt the flat facets, and I laughed and was drowned out by the crowd clapping for something else.

I pulled it against my chest, feeling the cool metal on my collarbone. I placed it gingerly on my lap and looked eagerly at Ignazio, smiling brightly. It was a symbol of our hard work, and I loved it. Ignazio was beaming, and we shared an excited smile.

"You can hold it for a while if you want," he said, and I shook my head and handed it back.

"It's your trophy."

"Our trophy."

I shook my head.

"I helped, but it's yours. My trophy is my camera."

Without it being there, I imagined it in my hands, the weight of the camera in my lap, the strap that I played with when I was thinking, the cool metal and the black lens… I smiled off into the distance, and then felt Ignazio kiss me on the cheek, pulling me back into the joy of the American Music Awards. I turned and watched the three boys gazing at the award, and there lay my reward.

When we returned to the hotel very late into the evening, we had our own celebration, with cake and singing and hugging and all of us congratulating each other. Our party lasted quite a long time, and at one point Ignazio offered me his arm and asked, "My lady, how about we go for a little evening stroll?"

"You mean an early morning stroll?" I asked, smiling, "Sure, I'm game."

He nodded, and we grabbed our jackets and slipped away from the party. We went down the hallway and took an elevator down to the lobby. We had both changed into our regular clothes when we got back from the AMA after-party, and we went out together into the cool, busy November Los Angeles streets.

As soon as we were walking together on the sidewalk, I broke away from him and jumped around in front of him, singing, _"We are the champions…Of the world!"_

He laughed and reached out to me, and when I ran to him and took his hand, he twirled me around and then pulled me to him to kiss me.

"I still can't believe we won!" he exclaimed when I pulled back and we started walking together, arm in arm. "It's like an elaborate dream!"

"Believe it, Mr. Favorite Adult Contemporary Artist!" I said, and he laughed and whooped.

"So what's next, Tamzin?"

"We're going to experience this wave of American appreciation to the fullest!" I said, and he threw his fist into the air.

"Yes!"

"Christmas concerts are next!" I said, "Can you believe how many new people will show up for them, and how much more popularity you'll gain over the next month! Oh, brilliant!"

He ran ahead of me suddenly and leaped into the air to click his heels together, and I doubled over with laughter as he came running back.

"I love you!" he said, pulling me into a tight, excited hug, "I love you so much!"

"I love you too!" I said eagerly, and he kissed me.

"I was wondering, though," I said, looking up at him, "Is this enough to say that you've gotten your dream? Is an AMA enough, or were you dreaming of more? Not that I was going to stop working if you thought an AMA was enough…I was just wondering."

"Tamzin," he said softly, offering me his arm so we could keep walking, "I wanted to capture America's heart, and I think the award is the proof that we've gotten it, at least to an extent!"

"This shows that America's fallen in love with you," I said softly, thoughtfully.

"I think so too," he said, smiling.

"So do you have another dream? I mean, after this one?"

He stopped walking and turned to me, smiling sweetly at me.

"I think I do," he said softly, moving his arms around my waist, and then he pulled me in for a kiss.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

As usual, the Christmas concerts were brilliant, filled with timeless music, magnificent stages, and excited audiences filled with new people just hoping to hear good Christmas songs.

And hear them they did! The boys, of course, were amazing, their voices perfect and awe-inspiring. Having filmed a successful documentary, I felt authorized to upload video clips as well as pictures, and the new, larger fan base loved them both. I was getting a constant flow of feedback from the Il Volovers, and I was able to supply them with what they wanted to see from the boys.

I was having so much fun, darting around the stages with my camera and getting brilliant images to share with the fans, and as the weather throughout the country grew steadily colder, I always felt warm and comfortable when Ignazio was around.

We had fun together, playing around during rehearsals, sharing hot chocolate, flipping through my landscapes, watching old Il Volo DVDs from when Ignazio was young and chubby and adorable, and just spending time together in our hotel rooms throughout the different cities we stopped in. On the constant plane rides we took the opportunity to rest and take naps, as I laid my head on his shoulder and listened to his music library with him: dozing as Sinatra, Michael Buble, Josh Groban, and of course, Il Volo played in my ear and helped me to relax.

Sometimes, I would wake up and be unable to return to sleep because of my constant flow of thoughts, and I would just look up at him and gaze at his peaceful face, faraway smile, and his handsome features so close to me.

As the December days passed by, I dreaded the days when we had to return home for Christmas. I didn't want to go home to Florida and Harrison and have down time away from work. I wanted to keep going with Il Volo, traveling and taking pictures and promoting the boys. I wanted to stay with Ignazio, and the idea of being away from him for the weeks we were allotted for Christmas break didn't sound like a break to me; it sounded like a _separation._

"Oh, Ignazio," I whispered one day on a quiet plane ride. He was asleep and unaware that I was gazing at him, somber at the idea of leaving him. "I don't want to be separated from you. Even for a little while."

Then I leaned closer to him and tucked my head into the crook of his neck, peering up at him as my mind wandered.

_"And as long as I've got my suit and tie…Imma leave it all on the floor tonight! And you got fixed up to the nines, Let me show you a few things!"_

Gianluca and Piero were singing Justin Timberlake songs to the empty seats of the theatre as Ignazio playfully beat-boxed into his microphone along with them. I was lying on my back on the piano lid, holding my camera on my stomach and flipping through the landscape photos I had taken when we were in New Jersey. I turned my head and smiled as I watched my AMA winners dancing around the empty stage in their jeans and T-shirts.

We were back in California, at the end of the Christmas tour, and Il Volo had only three more concerts left to do. It was a pretty short tour, anyway, only about a month long.

This particular concert, in Sacramento, wasn't until a few more hours, and the boys had plenty of time to play around before the concert. I watched them, smiling, and then held my camera sideways and yelled, "Boys!"

When they turned, still dancing around at the edge of the stage, I snapped a picture and they laughed. Piero took bows while Ignazio blew dramatic kisses, and Gianluca smiled at me and then started to sing something in Italian, which Piero quickly joined in on.

Ignazio smiled at them, but then left them to come to me.

"You're probably not supposed to be lying on the piano," he said, smiling playfully.

"You're probably supposed to be practicing."

"Touché. So when are you leaving?"

"Whenever Michele comes to get me."

Michele was arranging for the boys to record another PBS concert after the Christmas break, and I had some ideas for it. I had sketched out some photography shots, stage designs, and stage directions for the concert that Michele really liked. I was accompanying him to a meeting with a producer from the Detroit PBS station. Using my powers of persuasion and reminders of how much Il Volo has helped PBS stations with fundraising, I had arranged for him to fly down from Michigan to meet with _us._

Michele and I would meet with him and discuss arranging the concert, and I would present my ideas.

"I wish you could stay here and watch us rehearse," he said, sitting down at the piano.

"Don't you mean _goof off_?" I asked, turning so I was lying down on my stomach and facing him.

In response, he jumped up and kissed me, and then sat back down and began to play something I didn't recognize.

"Tamzin, why are you lying on the piano?" I heard Michele say from beside the backstage curtain, and I turned and smiled at him. Then I slid off of the piano and slung my camera around my neck as Ignazio stopped playing and stood up. "Shall we go?" Michele asked, and I nodded excitedly

"I can't wait to get this thing arranged! My first PBS concert with you guys! I'll make sure it's amazing!"

"I have no doubts that you will," Michele said, and Ignazio came up behind me holding my red coat.

"Here," he said gently, "It's chilly outside," and then held it up while I slid my arms into it and pulled it on. He didn't let go when I had it on, pulling the fabric around me as he kissed my cheek. "Have fun."

"Oh, I will! We'll be back before the concert even starts, Ignazio. And I expect you to be well-rehearsed and looking very handsome in your suit."

"Oh, of course!" he said, and I turned around and gave him a quick kiss, then waved goodbye to Piero and Gianluca, who were doubled over with laughter, but they managed to wave back anyway.

"Be safe!" Ignazio called as Michele and I walked backstage.

We went to some sort of conference building filled with meeting rooms for our appointment with the men from PBS. The producer had brought along some associates, and among them was a production designer who asked if we had ideas for how the program would look.

Michele nodded to me, and in my excitement I took control of the conversation, pulling out my sketches and vibrantly explaining my ideas while suppressing exuberant laughter. I whipped through my plans, nearly overwhelming him with sketches and camera angles and additions to the stage that would look amazing on camera. He seemed very impressed with me, though occasionally he would lean back and smile as if he'd got me pinned, and ask something along the lines of, "Don't you think that's a but much?"

"No. It's brilliant, and nothing is too much for my boys," I responded at one point, placing a hand on my hip and smiling cunningly at him as he quietly agreed. I seemed to have managed to rally everyone in favor of my plans, but I was so vivacious and energetic that after a long while of having the PBS workers hanging onto my every word, Michele put a hand on my shoulder.

"Good, Tamzin."

"But there's so much more to explain!"

"Tamzin. Good. Sit."

I sat, and after the producer agreed to the project, it was time to negotiate the specifics of it. Suspecting that I would become ruthless and eager to jump in on the bargaining, Michele decided to send me outside the meeting room. He took me into the hallway and told me to wait for him. Despite my fervent protesting, I eventually relented to his firm command, going to the lobby of the conference center and sitting on the edge of a chair to wait. I held my camera in my lap and bounced my knees energetically, and then after a while sat back and grew calmer, and finally got bored and sat sideways in the chair, my red high-tops dangling over its arm.

I kept checking my new phone, watching the time grow closer and closer to the start of Il Volo's concert, and I watched the increasing darkness outside the windows. I grew anxious as I began to think I may not be back at the theatre in time for the concert. Even though I had more than enough pictures of the Christmas concerts, I still wanted to get some more from these, the last few of their Christmas tour, and I had told Ignazio I'd be there.

"_Michele_," I murmured impatiently, watching the minute hand creep along the office's clock. I didn't want to interrupt their meeting, especially knowing the scolding Michele would give me if I did.

I got many strange looks from people as they passed through the room and saw my sideways position in the chair, and eventually I got up and stood before the entrance, looking out at the darkness. I could feel the cold radiating from the door, and I instinctively shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat. I didn't like cold weather. I hated having to brace myself before I went outside, and I hated how it made it hard to go out and take pictures. But the thrill of going and getting my photos outweighed the unpleasantness of the cold.

It was getting steadily chillier as the evening moved on, and I checked my pockets for money to take a cab and found none. I should have gotten money from Michele before I left the meeting room, but I guess neither of us expected it would take so long to make the arrangements for the concert. I waited and waited, and neither the PBS people nor Michele appeared in the doorway. I tapped my feet and paced and checked the time again and again, probably annoying anyone who stayed for more than a minute in the lobby.

I sighed forlornly when I saw that it was time for the boys to begin the concert, imagining the moment when they first step onto the stage and the wild reaction of the people. Then I imagined Ignazio not having me to wish him good luck before he went onstage, and going out and looking for me and finding me gone.

As I stared at the clock on my phone, I got a text from Barbara.

_"Concert just started. Where are you?"_

_ "Still at the meeting. Michele says I'm done, but I've been waiting for him forever! I don't have money for a cab either…I want to be there!"_

_ "I'm just hanging around, and we still have another rental here…I'll come and pick you up if you want."_

_ "Yes please!"_

_ "On my way!"_

Yes! Thank God for Barbara!

I felt cheerful and excited now, knowing soon I'd be at the concert. It was only a matter of time. I'd definitely be there before it was half-over.

I sat down and waited, feeling very inactive as I tried to sit still and wait for my ride. I held the camera in my lap, playing with the strap and imagining the boys singing, mouthing the Christmas carols as they echoed in my mind.

After a while, even though my disdain for the cold was ever-present, I decided to wait outside. It was dark, but I didn't care. It sounded better to me than waiting in the emptying conference building. I stood outside, shivering and looking eagerly around for Barbara in the rental car.

Soon I saw it pull up, a small, lightweight white car whose passenger seat was filled with concert equipment: a speaker on the floor, cables and spare microphones, guitar strings and a spare case, and other things.

Barbara hadn't seen me standing under the entrance and climbed out as I took off, sprinting through the cold to get to the car.

"Barbara!" I called, and she turned and smiled at me.

"Get in! Let's get to that concert, shall we?"

"Yes! Barbara, do you mind if I drive? I hate sitting around idly when there are things to be done!"

She laughed and tossed me the keys.

"Oh, I know it!"

I got into the driver's seat, carefully setting down my precious camera on top of the speaker in the passenger seat as Barbara got into the middle of the backseat.

"So, tell me about the meeting. Did you convince them to lavish us with attention!?"

"Of course! I was stunningly _brilliant_! Those men will never forget the name of Tamzin Lucille Montgomery, who dazzled them so thoroughly on this day in late December!"

We both laughed, mine excited and eager as I turned onto the highway and started rapidly gaining speed. It was about twenty minutes to the theatre from where we were, but the traffic was pretty light, which delighted me.

As I drove through the dark highway with the black trees rushing by beside the road, I recounted to Barbara the details of the meeting, and she listened intently as I happily explained my interaction with the PBS people.

As I told her about Michele shooing me out and then my wait in the lobby, I turned onto a long stretch of highway that was almost completely empty, aside from a few cars here and there that whizzed along beside me.

"Well, good," Barbara said as I finished telling her about the meeting. "Sounds like it went really well, and that _you_ did very well, Tamzin."

Then we were quiet, because I was thinking and Barbara could tell that I was preoccupied. I watched the road, calculating how long it would take to get to the theatre if the traffic stayed so light. There was only the sound of the rumble of the car and the wind rushing by as I drove, my speed just a little above 60. My headlights illuminated the road in front of me, and I could distantly feel the cold through the car windshield. Black trees surrounded us and raced past, and watched the road and the clock as I drove. A light inside the car cast a bright reflection of me in the window, and I glanced at myself, seeing the alert blue eyes reflecting my fast mental pace, the wind-swept blonde hair, the red coat pulled tightly around me. After we moved onto another, busier branch of the highway, the road started to curve somewhat sharply, and as I followed it my vision was blocked by the distant outline of trees that grew close to the road.

There was a cluster of headlights around the bend, and after a moment cars were whizzing past on my left, filling the lane with their lights and faint noise lost in the rush of the cold wind. As the rest of the lights rapidly approached me, I noticed that one of them had a location that seemed…off. I leaned forward and then tightened my hands on the steering wheel and felt my breath catch in my chest in terror as we sped toward the bright light.

Suddenly I was blinded by the bright headlights of a car coming headlong toward us, swerving slightly as it approached.

"TAMZIN!" Barbara screamed, and her voice was so desperate and piercing that it sent a jolt through me, and I jerked the wheel sharply to the side. The car was violently yanked off the side of the road, and I screamed and pulled the wheel the other way as the speeding car shot forward and past us. The scream rang in my ears as everything in front of us became a wild blur, and suddenly there was a flash of a black figure and a deafening bang as I was yanked forward with a force so violently tremendous that I knew I must be dead. But then pain exploded throughout me, and I let out an involuntary agonized scream as everything around me shattered and crumpled and exploded, and then something white was shoved into my face and suddenly there was no more force, only agonizing pain.

I kept screaming as I reached up and desperately shoved at the thing in my face, and I felt a tight hand on my shoulder as I fumbled for the car door, frantically trying to escape wherever I was. I felt it open easily and heard Barbara screaming my name as I tumbled out of the metallic trap and then was writhing on the ground in the freezing grass. I opened my eyes and the stars- maybe the real ones but I didn't know- flashed in front of my face.

My screaming faltered, but there was still the pain shooting through my body, and figures danced in front of me through the bitter cold and the new wet and sticky heat on me.

"TAMZIN!? TAMZIN!" Suddenly Barbara was in front of me, and through the blurriness I could see her terror as her blurred face appeared above me, and I felt her hands on my own face.

"Tamzin, can you hear me!? Answer me! TAMZIN!?"

I saw her coming closer, leaning over me, and then the pain intensified and I screamed through the intense confusion now gripping me.

"What is it!? Where does it hurt!?"

I didn't answer, wracked with the most pain I've ever felt in my life, and I could hear my ragged breath loud in the darkness.

"Oh, Tamzin, there's so much blood…"

I turned my head and saw metal crumpled beside me, and realized after a moment that it was the front of the car, smashed against a huge dark tree growing too close to the road. Branches wove their way around the windshield, and I saw glass on the ground stained with a dark red that made its way through the grass to where I lay.

Barbara was talking again, only frantically and not to me, and as I closed my eyes and started shivering I wondered if maybe she was telling the boys to get out of the car to come and help me.

"Ignazio!" I cried suddenly, weakly, and I tried and failed to reach up for his hand.

"Tamzin!?" Barbara said, and through the blurred shapes I saw her hanging up her phone and leaning over me.

"Barbara!" I cried, and as she moved closer I reached up suddenly and gripped her blouse in my hand. "Barbara, we were in a car crash!"

"Yes! Good girl! Tell me what hurts!"

"Everything! Barbara, listen to me!"

"Yes, Tamzin, I'm listening! What hurts!?"

I pulled on her blouse, realizing for the first time the blood glistening on my wrist.

"You can't tell Ignazio until after the concert!"

"Yes, yes, Tamzin, I need you to tell me-"

"Everything!" I gasped, and then closed my eyes and felt the urge to scream, but was too weak to. "My arm! My chest! And my head…" I identified, and moaned in agony as I felt her cool hand on my cheek, trying to comfort me as she pulled back the flaps of my coat.

"You can't tell Ignazio!" I insisted faintly, pulling weakly on her shirt and struggling to focus my vision, "He'll panic! You can't tell him until after the concert! Promise me!"

Her face was white.

"Tamzin…" she almost whispered, "There's so much blood…What if you don't get to see him again?"

I felt so weak, and I could feel consciousness slipping away from me. I wanted desperately to pass out so I didn't have to feel the excruciating pain, but not until she agreed.

"I will," I said hoarsely, struggling to stay awake against the torment throughout my body, "I don't intend to die."

"I'm so sorry. You can't control that."

"No," I whispered, "But I'll do the best I can…"

Then the blackness overtook me and pulled me from the freezing grass beside the road.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

There were people nearby talking, and as faint snatches of the conversation reached me, I heard my name a few times. I didn't recognize the voices, and I stayed quiet and just listened for a few minutes. As I started trying to figure out who was speaking, I grew aware of pain in my arm and my head, and I moaned weakly and opened my eyes, startled to find the bright lights of a hospital room surrounding me.

I heard someone move quickly beside me, and then I looked up and saw a woman in scrubs peering down at me before she turned and hurried away. For a moment it was quiet, and I closed my eyes and listened. Then the door to the room opened and I watched as she, another nurse, and a doctor silently hurried back in.

"Get out," I groaned, but they crowded around me, whispering to each other about me. "Hush," the doctor said, and the others quieted. "Ms. Montgomery, we've been waiting for you to wake up. How are you feeling?"

"Get out."

"I need you to answer some questions for me, okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Why?" I said, and then in an instant memories of the crash came flooding back to me, and I gasped. "Ignazio!"

"Ignazio?"

"Where is he!? Where is he!?"

I started to move, trying weakly to get up, and the doctor hurried to the side of the bed and placed a hand on my collarbone.

"Don't get up."

"No! Where is Ignazio!?"

Pain shot through me as I stirred, and I looked down and saw my arm completely wrapped in tight bandages. I was still wearing my T-shirt and jeans, without the coat, and I was surprised to find that none of the blood had gone beneath it. The rest of my arms were covered in gashes, where Barbara must have seen all the blood she talked about, and my head was spinning.

"Ohh…"

"You're going to be alright. Do you know where you are?"

"Get your hand off of me!"

He did, and I immediately started to get up, prompting the nurses to come closer and pin me down by my shoulders, middle, and legs.

"WHERE IS HE!?" I screamed, and immediately thought I might faint, but didn't. The air seemed pretty thin, and I struggled for breath.

"Your boyfriend is in the waiting room with his friends," a nurse reassured me.

"Let him in! He needs to know I'm okay!"

"Oh, come on, please don't throw a fit like he did," the doctor said, rolling his eyes, and I looked up at him.

"What?"

"He was freaking out because we wouldn't let him in to see you, but we eventually got his friends to calm him."

"Well, I'm awake now! Just let me see him! He just needs to know I'm okay!"

"But you're not okay yet! You need to lie down and quit acting so stupid!" one of the nurses scolded, and for a moment I was still, and it was quiet in the room. I felt their grips on me loosening. Then I thrashed, kicking and swinging my unbandaged arm around to push them back, and I jolted upward into a sitting position. I shoved back the nurse who grabbed me again, and the doctor rushed to the hallway and started yelling something as the nurses starting yelling at me.

"IGNAZIO!" I screamed, ignoring the pulse in my head as I jumped out of the bed.

I felt immensely dizzy and unstable, but when the doctor came back and grabbed me I drew back my hand and slapped him across the face as he cried out in pain and yelled at me.

"IGNAZIO!" I screamed again, turning and stepping toward the door, but I fell to my knees, thrashing and screaming when the two nurses pulled me backwards and pressed me against the cold tile floor.

"LET GO OF ME!" I shrieked, kicking and trying to hit the people hanging onto me despite not being able to see clearly anymore. I struck someone else, and the yelling of the people around me filled my ears and made a sharp pain shoot through my scalp.

There was a scrambling around me, and as I shoved someone back and clambered to my feet there was a sharp prick in my arm, and dizziness overwhelmed me.

"Ignazio…" I cried weakly, shrinking down to the floor and reaching toward the door. "Ignazio…"

I started to cry feebly as I cradled my throbbing, limp arm to my chest, and everything started to spin and then fade away as I pined for him.

Finally, everything was silent, and I was alone in the room, lying still on the bed. Everything was calm and still, and I could feel a blanket over my legs protecting me from the chill of the hospital. I was gripped by the pain, and I quietly lay there, listening to the quiet as I faded in and out of reality.

Then I heard someone moving right outside the door, and I heard it open and then quietly, carefully, it was closed behind the person. I felt weak and dizzy, and I didn't open my eyes. I could feel whoever it was just watching me, and I persuaded myself to speak.

"I want…to see…Ignazio…" I insisted weakly, and for a moment the room was silent again.

"I'm here."

I opened my eyes immediately at the tender cadence of the voice rich with its familiar Italian accent. I looked to the door, where Ignazio stood quietly watching me, looking distressed, his normally bright eyes filled with worry. He was wearing the white button-down shirt and dress pants from the concert, with a different thick gray jacket on, and he looked very handsome, with his hair nicely fixed.

"Ignazio!" I said hoarsely, stirring and struggling feebly to push myself up.

"Don't get up!" he commanded, and I willingly agreed. He stood there for a moment, gazing at me, and then suddenly hurried across the room to the bed and sat beside me on the mattress, taking my face in his hands and leaning down over me.

"Mmmm…" I murmured, closing my eyes at his gentle touch.

He leaned further over me and kissed me tenderly as I weakly reached up and touched his cheek.

"I love you," I whispered weakly when he pulled back, and I wrapped my hand around his sleeve, clinging to his arm.

"I love you too," he said softly, and I could tell by his voice that he was crying as he looked over my slashed and broken body.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my eyes still closed.

He placed his hand gently on my head, where a deep headache was radiating throughout.

"They told me you have two broken ribs, and a concussion."

"Yes…that makes sense…" I whispered.

"And oh, Tamzin, your arm," he said tearfully, looking at the bandages with the shock evident in his voice.

"Please don't touch it," I whimpered when his hand left my head.

"I'm not going to touch it. Oh, Tamzin, Oh my dear…"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him, at his red cheeks and the tears running down his face. It was still a strange sight for me to see him crying, when he was usually so bright and playful, and I started to cry too.

"Shhh…Shhh…You're okay. You're okay now."

I took my good hand from him and made it into a fist that I pressed over one of eyes as I cried.

"It hurts so much, Ignazio…"

He leaned over me and took my hand tightly in his, and he leaned over me and softly kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and my lips.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking up at him, at the tenderness in his dark eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh…Shh… It's okay. Relax. It's not your fault."

He gently caressed my hair and held my hand on my middle. I was quiet, closing my eyes and listening to his quick breaths and feeling his gentle touch.

"Ignazio…I was in the car, going to the concert, and-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Barbara already told me everything."

"Oh…good," I sighed gratefully, not wanting to recount the story, and he leaned over me and kissed my cheek, and I felt the tears on his face.

"Where's my camera!?" I asked suddenly, opening my eyes wide, and when I stirred he released my hand and placed his palm cautiously over my middle.

"Stop, Tamzin," he said urgently, "The camera's fine! It's with Barbara."

"Barbara! Where is she!? Is she okay!? Did she wait to tell you until after the concert!?"

"Shhh! She's fine, Tamzin. Not a scratch on her. It was just the way the car hit that hurt you. She told me all about it…and yes, after the concert she told us."

He leaned over me, his cheek pressed sweetly against mine as his fast breathing slowly relaxed.

"You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have made her wait to tell us! Michele knew too, and he wouldn't answer any of our questions about where you were. Then when we finished, Barbara was backstage, crying and holding your camera, and she told us. You shouldn't have done it. Can you imagine going backstage after the meet-and-greet and learning that the love of your life is in surgery!?"

He sat up, sounding angry, and I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He did look angry, which scared me.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly, desperately wanting that anger to fade, "I thought you would panic and not finish the concert. And I wasn't going to die!"

"Tamzin, you don't know that! You could have died! I could have lost you! Do you realize that!?"

He was angry, but as he said it he started to cry again, and when I mustered the strength to reach up and touch his cheek, all the anger left from his face.

"I thought you would panic and run away from the concert, and I didn't want that to happen."

He sighed, closing his eyes and taking my hand in his to hold it to his cheek.

"You're probably right, Tamzin. But I should have known as soon as it happened!"

"I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes and feeling dizzy again, and Ignazio gently lowered my hand onto the mattress and leaned forward to kiss my cheek.

"Don't worry about it. It's okay. We shouldn't be talking about this right now. You should be going back to sleep, and I should be singing to you."

"That sounds so good," I whispered, and he leaned down close to me, gently stroking my hair as he quietly began.

_"Questo amore splendido…Questo immenso senso di felicita…lo devo solo a te…"_

I faded in and out of consciousness, with Ignazio sitting beside me on the bed and holding my hand. The pain and the weakness would gradually fade away and then sharply return, and whenever I stirred in discomfort or moaned softly in pain, Ignazio would take my face in his hands and try to soothe me.

"Shhh…you're okay. You're alright," he would say softly, gently holding my face, and I would focus on his voice as I drifted back to sleep.

Time moved so slowly for me, the pain making the seconds long, and despite the medicine the nurses came in to give me, I still hurt. It must have been hours that Ignazio sat there with me, consoling me and getting me to relax.

After several hours of coming to and then fading, struggling with the discomfort and continually reaching out for Ignazio's reassuring voice, I fell into a long, uninterrupted sleep. I was comforted greatly by Ignazio's presence, and he made the horrible hospital room into a place where I could actually rest.

Later I awoke to hushed voices around me and immediately thought of the aggravating group of the doctor and nurses, but then relaxed as I identified the people.

Ignazio was still beside the bed, and I felt his hand tenderly resting on my forehead and smoothing my hair, still comforting me as he murmured something to the group.

Piero and Gianluca sounded as if they were sitting at the edge of the bed, and I could feel the back of one of them against my foot under the warm blanket. Michele was beside Ignazio, and Barbara was on the other side of the bed, and after a moment I felt her soft, cool hand on my cheek.

"There was nothing else to do," I heard her say gently to Michele. "It wasn't her fault."

"I know," Michele replied softly, "I didn't mean that it was. I just think a lot of trouble befalls our girl, doesn't it?"

He rested his hand affectionately on my ankle, and Ignazio caressed my hair as Barbara moved her hand from my cheek.

"Look at her," she cooed softly, "She's exhausted, poor thing."

I wearily kept my eyes closed, listening contentedly as I stayed relaxed beside Ignazio. I loved our group, and I didn't mind having them there in the room.

"So what are you going to do with her?" Ignazio asked Michele.

"You're not sending her home, are you?" Piero asked. "I know she wants to see the end of the Christmas tour."

"No, no, no. She can stay, as long as she understands she must take it easy. You can make sure of that, Ignazio. We're going to be staying here in Sacramento until the tour is over, anyway, so she can just stay here. If she can't go to the concerts, she can stay in the hotel room. Simple!"

"And Christmas break is in a week, so she can go home then," Gianluca said thoughtfully.

"Right," Michele said, "Plus, if I sent her home now, she'd kill me."

"That's right I would," I murmured wearily with my eyes still closed, and there was a pause before they all moved closer around the bed, softly greeting me in pleasantly surprised voices. I managed to open my eyes, and I smiled weakly at them gathered around me. I considered trying to get up, but I knew Ignazio would force me to stay down, so I didn't move.

"Hi," I whispered back to them.

"I'm sorry we woke you, Tamzin," Barbara said, reaching for me.

"Watch the arm, watch the arm."

"Of course," she said, resting her hand soothingly on my shoulder.

"We should go and let you sleep," Michele said. "But you heard the plan, right?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Okay. Keep resting. Ignazio says he'll stay here, and we'll talk to you later."

"We're so glad you're okay, Tamzin," Barbara said, and they all added their agreement. Then Michele squeezed my hand and moved away, Barbara kissed my cheek, and then Gianluca and Piero came up beside me and did the same as Barbara.

Then they all whispered goodbyes and tiptoed out, closing the door quietly behind them as I closed my eyes again.

Ignazio leaned in close to me and kissed my cheek, and then my lips.

"I'm not leaving," he said, "But I wanted to do that anyway."

I opened my eyes and looked up at him, then reached out so he would take my hand.

"Maybe you should, though, Ignazio. You look tired. You should go back to the hotel and take a nap."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I'm staying here with you."

I didn't argue, closing my eyes again and feeling my hand in his.

"How do you feel? Is the pain any better?"

"It's about the same, I guess."

"Oh, Tamzin. I wish there was something I could do."

Then I was quiet, thinking silently for several minutes. I reflected on the car crash and thought about the flashes of color and shapes I had seen right before all the pain and the blood, and I winced.

"Hey," Ignazio said soothingly, "Are you thinking about…"

"The crash."

"Don't. You're okay now. Don't torture yourself dwelling on it."

"Okay."

But I couldn't help thinking about it, thinking about Barbara leaning over me in the dark freezing grass, telling me I couldn't control if I died.

"If I had died…" I mused.

"Shh...Please, Tamzin, I really don't want to talk about that."

I was quiet for a moment.

"If I would have died," I started again, "It wouldn't have mattered what I chose in August. I wouldn't get to do either of the options."

"Tamzin," he said firmly. "Are you saying you would have been okay with dying?"

"Oh, no! No, Ignazio!" He sighed softly, sounding relieved, and he gently squeezed my hand. "Then I would never get to have either of my options. I never would get to know if my decision to stay was the right one. Although…maybe I won't anyway, because I don't know what would have happened if I went with National Geographic…But at least I would know if this decision was a good one."

"It was, Tamzin," he said softly. "Neither of the choices was bad. But you mean you don't know if the other one would have been better, right?"

"Yes. Yes, right."

We were quiet for a moment, and then he asked softly, "Are you still awake, my dear?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Can you…explain to me why you chose to stay with us?"

"Because, Ignazio," I said, opening my eyes and looking up at him. He looked pretty serious, and he looked somberly down at me. "Because I love working with you guys. I have so much fun here, and I love Michele and Barbara, and Gianluca and Piero, and the band and the producers, and you, of course."

"But you know you would have loved working with National Geographic, too, don't you!? It's been your dream to work with them ever since you were little! There's got to be a reason you stayed with us, and not because you love us, because I know you do! What was the specific reason you stayed with us, the thing that held you back from leaving?"

I was quiet, looking up at him in surprise, taking in his observations.

"Well…I wanted to get you your dream," I said softly. "You deserved to get your American recognition."

"But what about _your_ dream!? Why does mine outweigh yours!?"

"Getting you your dream was my project for a long time, and I never quit a project. And I love you so much, Ignazio, that your dream was so important to me, too. "

He was silent, gazing down at me, and then he reached up his hand and placed it gently on my head, slowly smoothing back my hair as he leaned into me and kissed me gently, and I reached up my good hand to touch his cheek as he did.

"Thank you. I love you, too," he whispered when he pulled back.

I didn't feel much like talking, but occasionally I would begin to worry about the concerts I wouldn't be attending, or where my camera was, or if Ignazio should go home to rest. Whenever I stirred and voiced these things, Ignazio would talk softly to me and calm me, and convince me that everything was okay and I should rest. I was very weak and dizzy, and the wavering pain sometimes made me start to cry or feebly ask for relief. Ignazio did everything he could to help me, calling in the doctors to bring me medicine and comforting me as he kissed me and held my face in his hands.

When I awoke in the afternoon I found him sitting in a chair beside the bed, leaning his head back against the wall and dozing.

I lay there quietly watching him, gazing at him from the bed, and I smiled and felt warm inside when he whispered my name in his sleep.

In the evening the doctors fitted me for a cast for my arm and gave me another checkup, and then to my delight decided that I could go home, which meant back to the hotel room.

"Finally!" I said, relieved, to Ignazio. "I can leave this stupid room!"

Ignazio seemed just as relieved, and he called Barbara and Michele to let them know we were coming back from the hospital. Barbara came to pick us up, and after Ignazio had settled me down beside him in the backseat, she took my camera from the floor of the car and handed it to me.

"Oh, my camera!" I cried, reaching out with my one hand and cradling it tightly against my chest. Ignazio insisted I try to sleep with my head against his shoulder, though he seemed exhausted as well. So I closed my eyes and felt his arm around me and the camera against my chest.

I made Ignazio let me walk through the lobby, but I was slow and weak, and he walked uneasily along beside me, waiting to catch me if I stumbled. As soon as we made it to the elevator, he gently picked me up and held me against his chest, ignoring my feeble protests.

He carried me to my hotel room, and Barbara followed behind holding my camera and unlocked the door for us. Then she left us, and Ignazio carried me to the bedroom and laid me down on the bed. He left for a moment and I changed slowly into my pajamas, trying in frustration to navigate around the broken arm. I managed okay, and then Ignazio came back in with sandwiches for dinner.

"Not how I usually prepare dinner," he said, smiling wearily, "But I didn't want to make you wait for me to do something better."

"It's okay, Ignazio. Sandwiches are good."

I could see he was exhausted, and he took off his shoes and coat and we sat together on the bed and ate them, in the dim lamplight of the hotel room. I had a headache, my arm was bothering me, and breathing wasn't very easy, and as soon as I finished I willingly lay down on my back beside Ignazio and closed my eyes.

"Good girl," he murmured, reaching over and brushing my hair from my face. "How do you feel?"

"Not well."

"What hurts?"

"Everything."

He leaned over me and kissed my cheek, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"Just relax. After this week you'll get to go home and rest for a long time."

"I don't want to go home!" I protested suddenly, opening my eyes and beginning to get up.

"Tamzin, lie down! Don't you want to see your parents, and visit Harrison, and be back in Florida for a little while?"

"No! Not if you're not there!" I exclaimed, struggling against his hand on my shoulder.

"Really?" he asked softly, his eyes brightening.

"Of course," I said quietly, looking up at him, and then I allowed him to lay me back down. "Christmas break last year was so lonely without you…I don't want to do it again! I love you! How am I going to be able to stand a month without you!?"

"Actually…" he said, smiling, "I've been thinking about the break in the hospital…And I think I have a plan."

"A plan?"

"I don't want to leave you either. Even though I love my hometown so much, I don't want to leave you to go there. Especially since you're so hurt. Someone's got to keep an eye on you and make sure you do what you're supposed to!"

I rolled my eyes and he laughed softly, then gently placed his hand on my aching head.

"And I don't want you traveling alone like this. I don't want you traveling at all, actually, but especially not alone."

I smiled slightly and gazed up at him.

"So…tell me what you think about this…" He moved closer to me, pushing aside the empty sandwich plate and getting ready to present his plan. "I'll go with you to Florida and find a place to stay for a week or two, and we'll spend Christmas together in Florida with your family."

"But then what about your family, Ignazio!? You won't get to be with them for Christmas!"

"No, but I'll be with you." He leaned over and kissed me, and then sat up again, his eyes bright. "But you didn't let me finish. After Christmas, I want you to come home with me."

"You mean…"

"Yes. I want you to come to Marsala with me."

"Oh, Ignazio! Yes! It sounds so brilliant! I've always wanted to photograph Italy!"

I took his arm and tugged on him eagerly, and he bent over me so I could kiss him.

"So you want me to make the arrangements?"

"Yes! I love this plan!"

"Good! And then you and I won't have to be apart." He smiled sweetly down at me and stroked my hair. "I can stay with you and make sure you're okay."

My heart was racing, and I felt so light and happy inside, knowing that I wouldn't have to part from him, and I beamed up at him. He brightly returned my smile, and then reached out and picked up the empty sandwich plate.

"I'll bring this to the kitchen. I'll be right back."

I nodded, and he turned and moved off the side of the bed, standing up and taking a few steps away. But then he swayed and stumbled forward, dropping the plate and reaching out for the wall to steady himself.

"Ignazio!" I cried, pushing myself quickly up and ignoring the instant light-headedness.

"I'm okay!" he said quickly, thrusting out an open palm. "Don't get up! I don't know what just happened."

"Oh, Ignazio. You haven't really slept in nearly two days. You're exhausted! Forget about the plate and come lie down a minute; then you'll feel better."

He looked up at me and nodded wearily.

"Lie down," he instructed, and I nodded and obeyed as he came back to the bed and gratefully fell into it, moving onto his side beside me. "I'll only rest a minute, though," he said softly, closing his eyes, "Then I'll go pick up the plate and sit next to you and watch over you. How do you feel now?"

"Okay," I said, trying to sound convincing as I smiled at him lying beside me. I knew he'd fall asleep, and I hoped he would. "Thank you for taking care of me," I whispered, "And for being so gentle with me."

"I love you," he answered, and then smiled when I reached out and gently caressed his silky dark hair. I closed my eyes too, still stroking his hair and feeling it in my fingers. His breathing slowed, and after a minute I wearily opened my eyes and carefully reached out to turn off the lamp beside the bed. I lay back down beside him and moved closer to him, and I fell asleep listening to the soft sound of his breathing.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Ignazio and I slept side by side together in the hotel bed, and in the morning he moved me carefully into the living room at my request. Gianluca, Piero, Barbara, and Michele all came to see me, and they hugged me and kissed me and fretted over me until Ignazio saw I was getting tired and made them leave. In the afternoon I asked him if he should be getting ready for the evening's concert, and he told me he wasn't going no matter what Michele and Barbara said. I told him he had to go, and after talking back-and-forth about it I got so riled up that he eventually agreed so I would calm down, though he clearly wasn't happy to be leaving me.

Barbara went with them to the theatre, but after the start of the concert she returned to take care of me while the boys were gone. She told me as she brought me my medicine that Ignazio was nervous about leaving me, and he kept giving her instructions on taking care of me, telling her to make sure I didn't do any work.

I was already upset that I couldn't go to the concert, and I sulked for a while when Barbara hid my laptop, but the pain in my arm and head and the difficulty of breathing distracted me and quickly tired me out.

Late into the evening, when I was asleep in the hotel bed after an exhausting day of recuperation, I heard the door open and Ignazio came in wearing his tuxedo, a worried look on his face. He closed the door quietly behind him and came to the bed, dropping to his knees beside it and lightly kissing my cheek as he laid his hand on my aching head. I reached out to hug him, surprising him, and he smiled and hugged me gently back, kissing me again.

I knew I couldn't go to the concerts, but it didn't stop me from begging Michele and being turned down. I insisted that the boys take a few cell phone group pictures for me to post online from the last few concerts of their Christmas tour, and they obliged. At the end of the week Ignazio finally allowed me to work, though he monitored me closely.

Not being able to use my arm was frustrating, but I did my best to figure out how to do things on my own, only occasionally allowing Ignazio to help me. I was always trying to breathe, and being frustrated that it hurt so much. My head was especially bothersome, as I had frequent headaches and occasional dizziness, especially when I got up or tried to work despite Ignazio's protests. He was very protective over me, staying beside me when he could and making sure I was secure before he left.

I spent my time dreaming up plans for the tour Il Volo would begin after Christmas, and dreaming about what Marsala would be like. Ignazio made the arrangements for our break together, and I would be staying in the guest bedroom in his parents' house. He wanted me to be in the same house as him so he could keep an eye on me, knowing I desperately wanted to be able to go out and photograph Italy. He told me he would allow me to go out at the end of the break if I was well enough, and I clung to that promise. In Florida he would be content to leave me in the care of my parents, and he told me Mr. Masters was going to allow him to stay in an empty dorm at Harrison if he would speak to a few classes.

So at the end of the week, after the last Christmas concert was finished, Ignazio woke me up early in the morning to get ready to go to the airport. He was nervous about the stress of traveling, but I reassured him repeatedly that I could handle it. He bundled me up, carefully helping me put on a coat over my cast, and then we said goodbye to everyone again.

"See you in about a month!" I said to the group after each of them had hugged and kissed me.

"Be safe, Tamzin," Michele said, "I know Ignazio will look after you."

"Don't do anything stupid!" Piero said, and he and Gianluca laughed when I shot him a playful glare.

"I won't let her," Ignazio said, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"Enjoy your trip to Italy," Gianluca said, and I smiled and nodded at him.

"Oh, I will!"

Then we headed to the airport, where Ignazio always had a hand protectively on me. He held my hand, he took my elbow, and he rested his arm around my waist, but he refused to part from me. He was observant to me, asking me how I felt and monitoring my breathing. I kept telling him not to worry and rolling my eyes when he persisted in his questioning, but when we finally boarded the plane I felt tired and I had a headache.

"Just relax. Soon you'll be in Florida, and I'll be with you," Ignazio said soothingly, encouraging me to lay my head on his shoulder, and I did so and closed my eyes. "And then after that…"

"Marsala," I whispered dreamily, and he kissed the top of my head and handed me an earbud so we could listen to his music together.

In Florida my parents met us at the airport and greeted us warmly, and they checked me over and fretted over my injuries. After I managed to shove them off, I introduced them to Ignazio, and I knew they liked him right away by the way they beamed at him as he shook my dad's hand and kissed my mother's.

My parents drove us to the house, where I gave Ignazio a tour and showed him my mostly empty childhood room. Then, to my parent's quiet approval, he insisted that I sit down and rest, and we all gathered in the living room. Ignazio told them all about traveling with me and what the touring was like, and the enthusiastic way he spoke about his life had my parents hanging onto every word.

I was feeling tired from the traveling, and Ignazio insisted that I go off and take a nap. He promised he'd be there when I woke up, and as I went to my room and drifted off to sleep I heard him continuing his conversation with my parents.

When I awoke in the afternoon he was still there, sitting in between my parents on the couch and looking through old family photo albums that my mom eagerly handed to him. I smiled and shook my head. They loved him, all right.

"Oh, Tamzin, aren't you adorable!" he said, turning around the photo album to a picture of me as a happy eleven-year-old with my new camera. "You've got the same spark in your eye!"

He reached out and took me carefully onto his lap, hugging me and kissing my cheek as my parents watched and smiled.

Ignazio went to check out his dorm room, and he called and told me it was like the college life he never had, making me laugh. The next day, after a while of insisting to Ignazio I felt okay, he took me to Harrison and showed me his room and took me to visit Mr. Masters. Mr. Masters was eager to see me, and I sat in his office and told him about my life with Il Volo while Ignazio sat beside me and smiled as he listened to my excited storytelling and cheerful laughter.

Life in Florida was pretty nice with Ignazio there. Every day he came over to my house, and my parents loved having him around. We watched movies together, went for brief walks around my hometown streets, video-chatted with Gianluca and Piero, and had fun being together. I showed him a variety of Florida-based landscapes I had taken in the past, told him stories of my childhood, and pointed out to him places I used to spend time in throughout the city. He sang to me, cooked for my family, and was always trying and succeeding to make me laugh, especially when he saw that I was getting somber. Not being able to go out and take landscapes was upsetting me, and no one was more aware of it than Ignazio.

He hated to see me longing to go out when I couldn't, and he held me and tried to comfort me, kissing me and telling me that soon I'd be better and I'd be able to go out. I'd hug him and bury my face in his chest and try to let him console me, knowing things would be so much worse without him there.

He monitored my health, asking me every so often how I was feeling, and when he saw me getting tired he encouraged me to settle down and rest for a while. He did his best to comfort me when I was in pain, and he contacted a Florida doctor to arrange check-ups for the short time we'd be in the state. He even called his parents in Marsala and asked them to find a good doctor there for when we switched locations.

Soon Christmas arrived, and Ignazio came to the house early and asked my parents for permission to go in my room and wake me up. I heard him come in, though, and after he pulled back the covers and kissed me, I leaped up and pounced on him, and he caught me and laughed as I knocked him to the ground.

Christmas was filled with brilliant lights, gleeful silliness and excitement, gentle slow-dancing, and Ignazio's amazing Italian cooking.

We enjoyed our time in Florida, but we were both eagerly anticipating going to Marsala. As our date of departure drew nearer and nearer, I grew giddier and more exuberant, requiring more supervision from an incessantly nurturing Ignazio.

The day came, and one morning in January we got up and got ready to leave for the airport. I was so excited I could barely eat, but Ignazio sat me down and demanded that I finish my breakfast. He was excited too, though, and the sparkling in his eyes never ceased as he dreamed about his family only hours away.

He bundled me in the new red coat he had given me, and my parents drove us both to the airport and gave us heartfelt goodbyes, demanding that we be safe and that I listen to Ignazio.

We boarded the plane, and several long hours later we arrived at the nearest airport to Ignazio's home, where we were received warmly by his parents and his older sister Nina. They seemed ecstatic to meet me, and they asked me question after question about my work and my opinions on touring. As I excitedly tried to answer all their questions, Ignazio shushed them and told them not to wind me up, and they all laughed.

We drove to his home, where I was shown the guest bedroom where I'd be staying for the next few weeks. I unpacked my things and then went outside to marvel at the landscape, a crowded city of tall ancient buildings and cobblestones, backed by dark green mountains. I turned back around and ran inside to get my camera, and stood on the porch feverishly taking pictures with my good hand. After a moment I stepped down from the porch and was immediately stopped.

"Stay!" came the playful command behind me, and I whirled around and saw Ignazio and Nina watching me in the doorway, smiling. Ignazio opened the door and came up beside me. "Don't you leave this porch without me," he said warningly, and when I pouted he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "At least…not yet…"

The Boschetto family seemed to enjoy having me around, and though Ignazio was cautious about it, I insisted we go on tours of different Marsala attractions. Nina only occasionally accompanied us, though, since she owned her own amazingly good pizza business. We traveled around and saw the Marsala Coastline, went up to the mountains, took a ferry to a nearby island, and went to see the Marsala windmills. I was entranced with all the different sites, and I longed to be able to run throughout the country on my own.

As we drove by the mountains one day, Ignazio leaned over and whispered, "You're committing all this to memory, aren't you?" I laughed excitedly and nodded vigorously, having been planning to run after all these places as soon as I was better.

Though I knew I couldn't slip away and go on a frenzied exploration, I toyed with the idea that perhaps I could go only a little ways away from the house when Ignazio let his guard down. But whenever I tried to leave, I was always caught and taken back into the house, where Ignazio scolded me and then held me tightly, promising that soon I'd be able to go out. He asked me to wait at least until the cast was off my arm, which made me dislike it even more and want to free myself from it. He offered several times to go with me, but I wanted to be alone in the land, and I knew he would get bored quickly and not want to tag along with me for hours.

It was so frustrating not to be able to go out, and I was constantly in a daydream of being lost in Marsala, though I knew I still had many days left of healing. So I tried to relax and wait, and engrossed myself in calling up Michele and talking with him about the arrangements for the tour, which he was finalizing over the break.

Ignazio took me to a very good Italian doctor for check-ups, and he conversed with him in Italian and translated for me. Finally, we went for an appointment where the doctor looked up at me and smiled promisingly as he said something in Italian.

"What did he say?" I demanded, seeing Ignazio's widening smile and the sparkle in his eye.

"You've healed nicely. They're taking off the cast a little early."

"YES!" I cried, and I jumped off of the table and into Ignazio's arms, hugging him tightly with my good arm as I laughed excitedly.

After the cast was off, Ignazio brought me back home and made me sit down on the couch as I squirmed eagerly. He knelt in front of me and took both of my hands tightly in his, making me pay attention.

"Promise me you won't get into any trouble."

"I promise!"

"Promise me if you get tired you'll come home."

"I promise! Come on, Ignazio!"

"Promise you'll be careful."

"Yeah, I will, I will!"

"I love you."

"I love you too!"

He got up and leaned in to kiss me.

"I release you; you may go out."

"YEEEAAHHHH!" I leaped up and dashed up the stairs, grabbing my camera and racing from the house, running off as fast as I could go into Marsala.

In a flood of excitement, I went tearing through the town, finding and capturing everything it had to offer me. I went jogging down the roads in my red high-tops, my hair flying behind me as I startled passers-by as I raced along further into the city. I draped the camera around my neck and climbed buildings, navigated over the rocky coastline, scampered through open courtyards, traversed through parks, and hoisted myself over crumbling stone walls. Everywhere I looked was new and beautiful and brilliant, and the cold metal of the camera and the red flash of my high-tops on the cement were invigoratingly familiar. I was laughing and turning around and around, my heart flying in my chest and heat running through my body despite the January chill.

In this rush of exultant ambition, I pulled everything I had been anticipating close to me. I took in the landscape and captured in on film, and experienced the elation of reuniting with my passionate explorations. For hours I was totally absorbed in the thrill and the challenge of capturing Marsala's beauty, and it wasn't until the sun had set and I was exhausted that I finally began the trek back to the Boschetto house. I found my way back easily, every twist and turn of the Marsala terrain engraved vibrantly in my memory, and when Ignazio came out to meet me, I beamed at him and sprinted forward. I ran and pounced on him, laughing exuberantly, and he gripped me tightly, feeling my excited, satisfied shaking.

I was giddy and especially animated throughout dinner and the rest of the evening, to the amusement of Ignazio's parents. I saved the photos and gave them to Ignazio to see, and went running throughout the house in a state of dizzying enthusiasm.

I settled down a little after I had taken a warm shower and washed my hair, and as I sat in my quiet bedroom looking out the window at the still Sicilian night I entered a sort of thoughtful trance.

I had known all along when I had been injured the joy that had lain just beyond my reach, and it had been so frustrating not to be able to access it. I wondered how horrible it would be if I had to go a longer time without being able to go out, and shuddered at the idea of never being able to do landscape photography again.

I had always wanted to be a landscape photographer, ever since I was only a little girl just beginning classes at Harrison. Being a portrait photographer had never crossed my mind when I was younger, though I enjoyed it immensely now. I was so deep into this beautiful world of Il Volo, and I loved it. It was a kind of work I was now eager to pour my whole being into, and doing so made me happy.

But I had not known any job other than this. Though I had long since aspired for it, I had never been a professional landscape photographer, except for the small jobs I had been occasionally sought out for from companies that contacted Harrison. The idea of working for National Geographic still thrilled me and made my heart race with excitement, though I had turned them down only months before. Il Volo was my job now, and I had not left them to do anything else than be their photographer. I wondered what being with National Geographic would really be like, and it suddenly occurred to me that I would never know.

I sat up straighter, staring blankly at the dark window in front of me as the realization gripped me. This was it. If I continued to stay with the boys, I would always be the photographer for Il Volo, and there would never be anything else. I loved working for them, but the idea of not knowing, never knowing what it would have been like to do what had been my dream for so long gripped me. I realized that my eyes were wet, and I reached up as a single tear ran down my cheek.

I quickly wiped it away, shaking my head.

_I love Il Volo. I do! I love being with them. But is there something else I could love more?_

I stared forlornly out the window, and then shook my head again, trying to compose myself, and turned away from the dark night to find Ignazio standing silently in the doorway, watching me.

"Ignazio!" I gasped, quickly reaching up to swipe at my eyes again, and I offered him a false smile. "I didn't hear you in the hallway. Hey."

He watched me quietly, his face serious and unsmiling, and then he entered the room and closed the door quietly behind him, coming to me and pulling up the extra desk chair beside mine.

"I brought back your flash drive," he said, holding it out to me, and I took it and quickly moved away to put it in the desk drawer with the others. I could feel him watching me, and when I closed the drawer I slowly returned to my chair.

"Tamzin," he said gently, and I peered up at him as if I was in trouble. "What's wrong? Was the photography session not actually as good as you hoped for?"

"No," I said, turning my gaze out the window again. "It was brilliant."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Tamzin. You can tell me."

He was quiet, waiting, and the room fell silent for several long moments as I turned my head to him and looked into his patient expression. I felt the tears return, and I looked down at my hands clasped tightly in my lap.

"It's just…sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice!"

There. I had said it. Ignazio didn't look surprised, only a little melancholy as he looked back at me.

"I mean, Ignazio, I love being with you guys, being with you! Don't think I don't love it here! But…it's just that…"

I looked down at my hands again, squirming as I struggled with how to phrase my thoughts.

"Just that you'll never know?"

My head snapped up, and I looked at him in astonishment. I nodded, and then, to my embarrassment, I began to cry again.

He reached out to me, and I abandoned my chair and let him take me onto his lap. I sat sideways on his jeans as he hugged me tightly and didn't let go.

"I go out to take my landscapes, and I see that I'm good at it- I know I'm good at it!" I choked out as he cuddled me to him. "And I love it here, but I wonder if maybe I'll love somewhere else just as much, or even more…"

I was crying, struggling to speak and to stop crying, but I knew, if anything, it wasn't the tears that he minded.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and he kissed my head.

"No, Tamzin. It's okay. I understand. It's alright."

"I'll be okay," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and laying my head on his shoulder to hug him tightly. "I'll adjust. I just need some time to accept it. It'll be okay. You know I really do love being with you guys!"

"I know," he reassured me. "You're a brave girl, Tamzin. Thank you for telling me everything. I love you…so much."

I pulled back from hugging him to kiss him, and then laid my head on his shoulder again. "I love you too. I'll be okay."

He held me tightly and kissed me sweetly, but his face looked somber, and I kept reassuring him that I'd accept not knowing, trying again and again to draw a real smile from him.

As the break continued, I was thoroughly enjoying myself in Marsala, running off into the distance again and again with my high-tops on my feet and my camera in my hand. My exhilarated state was constant and always within my grasp. I was free to do whatever I wanted, go wherever I desired, and I was so happy.

Ignazio was happy too, observing my exuberance and laughing with me in elation. I eagerly presented all my photos to him, loving the look of wonder I could bring to his face. He loved to dance with me and sing to me, and we went for walks together in the chilly evenings and then sat by the living-room fire together. All the activity tired me out, and he loved when I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder whenever we watched a movie or listened to music together. He would move his arm around me and stroke my hair, and carry me to the guestroom if it was late enough.

He loved being back with his family, and I liked to watch him interact with them, even if they were speaking in Italian and I couldn't understand a word. They were a very close and affectionate group, and I loved them.

I was enjoying seeing the tour details coming together as Michele kept in touch with me and sent me new information. I was eager to help out, and he consented and sent me occasional assignments.

I kept the Il Volovers updated online with photos Gianluca and Piero sent me from their hometowns, and I started a countdown to the beginning of the tour. I was excited for it to begin, but I was also having fun in Marsala with Ignazio, and I hoped time wouldn't pass too quickly.

One afternoon, after I had put some new landscapes on a flash drive, I went to my guestroom to put it with the others. But when I opened the desk drawer, it was empty.

My breath caught in my throat, and I stared wide-eyed into the empty drawer.

I turned and jolted away from the desk, racing into the hallway.

"IGNAZIO!" I called, my voice frantic, and he immediately appeared in the doorway of his bedroom looking scared.

"Tamzin! What's wrong!? Are you okay!?" He caught my shoulders and held me in front of him.

"Ignazio, my flash drives are gone!"

"It's okay! I have them!"

"What?"

"They're in here! I borrowed them for a little while to look through them!"

He took my hand and quickly ushered me into the room, taking me to where they were all laid out on top of his desk.

I sighed in relief, reaching out to collect a few of them into my hand. I turned to Ignazio, and he moved closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, tightly holding me to him.

"I'm sorry, Tamzin," he said softly, his hand smoothing my hair, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," I said, hugging him back. "You can look at them. It just scared me when I saw they were gone. But it's okay now. What are you doing with all of them?"

"Just looking through them, finding your best ones. They're all so beautiful, Tamzin. It was so hard to pick."

Our time in Marsala quickly came to an end, and before long I was packing my suitcase to depart the next morning, to meet up with our group in Los Angeles to begin the new tour. We all had a good-bye dinner in Ignazio's house, and then I went on a short final landscape run at sunset, my last one in Marsala during that break.

Ignazio's parents were sad to see us go, but they were so glad to have had both of us over for the break. They were just as warm with me as they were with Ignazio, hugging and kissing me and telling me they hoped I'd keep in touch with them.

In the morning they went with us to the airport and sent off Ignazio and me to reunite with Michele, Barbara, Gianluca, Piero, and the band, to begin the next Il Volo tour in the U.S.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Several days after our reunion in Los Angeles, we all headed to New York, and the day we arrived we went to the theatre where the boys would be performing that night. They boys did a sound check, and then we went out together for dinner at a fancy restaurant Michele had chosen. We were all having an especially good time together after spending weeks apart for the break.

We were excited to be on tour yet again, and we joyously toasted its beginning. The restaurant was filled with good food, good music, and rich red decorations; my kind of place! Ignazio sat beside me joking with me and making me laugh as we happily discussed yet again the concerts a few nights before in Los Angeles.

"This tour is going to be the best yet!" I declared.

"Hear, hear!" Piero agreed from across the table, holding up his glass of water, and I laughed and clinked with him and Gianluca, only vaguely aware of Ignazio's sudden quiet.

After we returned to the hotels and we all went to our suites, I spent some time fervently reviewing the new photos of the boys on my camera and reviewing the U.S. tour schedule. Soon I stretched and turned off my camera and went to take a shower. As I emerged feeling clean and refreshed in my pajama pants and T-shirt, I decided to go and tell Ignazio goodnight.

I quietly left my suite and went down the hallway to Ignazio's. I smiled when I found the door unlocked, toying with the idea of sneaking in and surprising him. He was probably expecting me, but I soundlessly turned the knob and cautiously opened the door, quietly entering the short hallway leading to the small living room of the suite. I reached down and carefully removed my red high-tops so I wouldn't make any noise, and listened.

"Yes, that sounds great! Would you mind running the times by me again so I can make sure I've got them right?" I heard Ignazio say, and I straightened in surprise at the sudden sound. His voice was coming from the kitchen, and when there was no response I figured that he was on the phone. I inched along the wall, and when I reached the corner I slowly leaned forward and peered around it, smiling to myself. He was standing with his back to me in the kitchen, on his cell phone as I had suspected. He had changed into his sweatpants and a thin T-shirt, but despite the comfortable clothing he stood up completely straight, alert and ready as he listened to the person on the phone.

"Thank you; that will be great! I'll make sure we'll be there… Okay, thank you!" He sounded happy, but when he hung up he just stood there motionless, holding the phone at his side as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. I stood motionless also, peering silently around the corner at his back, all thoughts of jumping out at him vanished. Then he turned, and his face was so somber and forlorn that it scared me. As I watched, he reached out and quietly laid his phone on the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he let it out, reaching up and fingering his damp hair.

He reached up his other hand and ran them slowly over his face, and then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the cabinet, his face dejectedly buried in his hands.

I chose this moment to step out from behind the wall, and I stood out in the open of the room.

"Ignazio?"

He jumped and jerked up, looking up at me in shock.

"Tamzin! Have long have you been here!?"

"I just came in a minute ago. Ignazio, what's wrong?"

For a moment he just stared at me, still looking surprised and a little unnerved by my sudden entry, but then he smiled and shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong."

There was not even a hint of a shimmer in his dark eyes, and I knew his smile was only a cover-up.

"No," I said, shaking my head worriedly. "You have to tell me."

He sighed and just looked at me, his smile fading.

I moved forward and went around the cabinet, joining him in the kitchen and standing in front of him.

"Ignazio, are you okay?"

I reached out and gingerly touched his face, and he took my hand in his and leaned forward to kiss me softly.

"I'm okay," he said when he pulled back. "Don't worry. Everything is as it should be."

"Really?"

"Yes. Everything is fine. I did everything I had to do today, and nothing's wrong."

I stared up into his eyes and there was a sadness about them that scared me.

"Then why do you look so upset?"

"I'm just…really tired."

He opened his arms to me, and I moved into them, feeling them move gently around me. I looked up at him, at his somber expression, and then pulled back slowly and stood in front of him.

"Then why don't you go to bed now?" I suggested softly.

We looked at each other quietly for a moment, and then he shook his head.

"I know this will sound strange, but I don't think sleep will help me."

"You're scaring me, Ignazio."

That seemed to get his attention, because he moved quickly to me and embraced me again, enveloping me in his arms.

"No, Tamzin. Don't be scared. I'm sorry I worried you. I promise, everything is as it should be."

I looked up at him questioningly, and he kissed me tenderly, and then released me.

"I'm going to go sit down," he said, and I stood there in the kitchen and watched him go to the living room and trade the overhead light for the smaller brightness of a lamp. Then he went to the recliner and lay back, stretching out and propping up his feet on the footrest. He rubbed his face with his hand, his eyes closed, looking exhausted.

I watched him silently for a moment, and then left the kitchen and went across the living room to the chair. I wordlessly went up to it and cautiously began to climb into it with Ignazio.

He opened his eyes and reached out to carefully help me get settled on his lap. I sat sideways on him, leaning back with him into the reclined chair, my feet hanging in between the chair and the footrest with my face beside his.

His arms were gently around me, holding me to him and securing me on his lap. I reached up and took the other side of his face into the palm of my hand and tenderly kissed his cheek. I gently kissed him again and again, trying to comfort him, and I smiled slightly when I saw his eyes close contentedly.

He turned his face to me, and I kissed his lips, and kissed them again and again, and moved slowly up the side of his face and back down.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too."

He opened his eyes, and the somber look was still present, though perhaps lessened by my presence. I kissed him again, lingering to feel his lips against mine, and I moved my hand down to rest on his chest as he closed his eyes again, surrendering himself to my efforts to console him. I lay against him in the recliner, gently kissing him again and again as the brilliant glow of the lamp illuminated us and fading into darkness around the rest of the room. I kissed his lips, his cheek, his temple, his chin, and his neck, and he was quiet, silently experiencing the comfort I tried to bring him.

After a while I rested my head in the crook of his neck, listening to his breathing and feeling his chest rise and fall under my hand.

"Feel better?" I whispered.

"Yes," came the soft reply, and I lifted my head and kissed his lips again. Then we both fell silent, sitting there together as the clock across the room counted the passing minutes.

I closed my eyes and kept listening to him, and soon heard his breathing change and his grip on me relax as he fell into sleep. For several minutes I just lay there listening, feeling him against me, and then I finally got up and moved cautiously out of the armchair.

"Goodnight, Ignazio," I whispered, looking down at his peaceful expression. I reached out and clicked off the light, and stood there for a moment as my eyes adjusted. I turned and carefully navigated through the room to the door. Leaving my shoes in Ignazio's suite, I opened it and looked back as the light briefly fell across his face. Then I stepped outside of the room and closed it quietly behind me.

I walked down the hallway in my socks and returned to my own suite, where the lights were all still on. I sat down at the table, thinking, and then got up and went to my camera. I flipped through the pictures I had taken only earlier that day, and in all of them Ignazio had that playful shimmer in his eyes.

I put down the camera and turned off the lights, quietly going to the bedroom and getting in the bed. I fell asleep worrying about what could have left him so somber in the room down the hall.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The next day and in the days that followed, Ignazio was his usual happy self. His eyes shone brightly with playful excitement, he joked around with me and the other boys, and he was silly and cheerful. There was no trace of the night in the dim New York hotel room, and I almost forgot about it…almost.

A few times I asked him to explain himself, but each time he distracted me or brushed me off. When I finally got frustrated and I cornered him and demanded an explanation, he became serious and tender, and he took me into his arms and told me not to worry. He said he was upset about something he had to do, but he had done it and now wanted to forget about it for a while. I asked what it was, but he kissed me and wouldn't answer me, telling me softly not to worry about it.

I was busy covering the tour anyway, and it felt good to once again be traveling with the boys. I was engrossed in my work, and occasionally I went out and did some landscape photography when I had finished the things I wanted to accomplish. The Il Volo fanbase was still rapidly expanding, and many people at the concerts told us eagerly that they were new fans.

Everything was and fun and exciting, though I did pick up on some strange minor occurrences. Occasionally I would catch one of the boys watching me, just silently observing me, but when I asked them what they were thinking they would just shake their heads and refuse to answer. Michele and Barbara complimented me on my work as they normally did, but seemed to be trying to demand my attention, willing me to take in what they were saying. Even though the touring was hectic, Ignazio insisted on taking me out on a few short dates in the early days of February.

One evening in February only a few days before Valentine's day, I was taking pictures at a Chicago Il Volo concert when the boys decided to surprise me. I had just gone backstage carrying my camera after taking some pictures when Barbara intercepted me and turned me around. She ignored my protests and marched me to where I could see the boys. A song had just ended, and instead of introducing another, they had their own ideas of what they were doing next.

"Tonight we'd like to pay tribute to someone very special to the three of us," Gianluca said, his voice reverberating around the stage.

"We'd like to recognize an ambitious, amazing person, who never ceases to do everything she can to get us the best she can get," Ignazio picked up. "She's always working, always picking up new ideas and running with them, and always devoting herself to us and her work."

I stared open-mouthed as they continued telling the huge theatre of people about how much this person meant to them, and I was standing on the side of the stage watching from behind the curtain.

"Even though she's not one who typically likes to be onstage…," Piero said, "We'd like to bring out our photographer, Tamzin Montgomery!"

Ignazio was jogging over to me, beaming, and Barbara took my camera out of my arms so he could take my hands and pull me onstage.

"Ignazio!" I said anxiously, looking up at him, but he wrapped an arm around me and led me out onto the stage, where hundreds of people applauded me, to my embarrassment. The boys all hugged me and told me they had something to show me, and as the crowd murmured and stirred excitedly, they turned me around to face the gigantic screen on the stage. At once, a video began to play, images and clips of me they had taken on their phones throughout our time together, along with samples of my work. Ignazio took my hand and held it tightly, and Piero took my other one, pulling me away from the crowd and helping me to focus on the video. "Questo Amore" echoed throughout the building, and I stared up at the screen in speechless awe.

There was a picture of me on the plane headed to my first tour with them, me sitting beside a glamorous stage working on my laptop, fixing my camera on the floor of a theatre, and my back running away from a hotel room with my camera in my hand. There was an image of me smiling breathlessly at Michele after the Christmas album photoshoot I had taken over in Latin America, dozing with Ignazio in a cab with my head on his shoulder, clips of Ignazio and I dancing at the Christmas album release party. There I was holding my T-shirt and poster for Barbara to see, being taken onstage by Ignazio at the Christmas Eve Extravaganza, posing with the boys in a hotel room after I had returned from the first Christmas break. There were several summer photos in Los Angeles, sitting in the condo with Ignazio, filming in the studio, editing my documentary and ignoring Ignazio as he sat across the table and videoed me. There I was at the AMAs, then playing around with the boys in a hotel room, and finally sightseeing with Ignazio in Marsala.

When the screen faded to black and the crowd applauded, I realized I was crying, especially when the boys all turned to me and proclaimed, "We love you, Tamzin!"

I hugged Gianluca and Piero, and when I hugged Ignazio he turned my face up to his and smiled.

"I hope you're not to afraid to be up here with us," he said softly and without the microphone, "We just wanted to give you something you'll remember forever!"

"Oh, I will!" I said, and then he kissed me. I heard the crowd cheer, and I pulled back quickly. "Ignazio!" I said, and looked nervously out at them applauding and watching us. Then I turned back to him and saw him smiling sweetly down at me, and I suddenly stepped forward and kissed him back, ignoring the applause. When I pulled back I made him lead me offstage, and when we were out of the eye of the crowd I took the front of his jacket in my fists and pulled him close to kiss him again.

When our group returned to the hotel rooms, tired and breathless with excited laughter, Michele and Barbara asked to speak with me alone. I followed them into Michele's suite, and they sat me down on the couch.

"With the appreciation of the boys being evident to you tonight, we just wanted to make sure you understand that you mean a lot to us, too," Barbara said, sitting beside me and smiling.

"You are the best photographer we've ever had, but you're so much more than that," Michele agreed. "You are so involved in everything Il Volo does, with the planning of the tours to arranging interviews. You seem to have learned your way around the music industry."

I laughed, and they did too, beaming at me.

"You're ambitious, and confident, and you're always on the move, working on something and keeping the boys in line," Barbara said, "And Ignazio is just getting happier and happier as the months go by."

I smiled and looked down at the camera in my arms.

"I do my best," I said, looking up at them.

"We know you do," Michele said, nodding. "And your best is amazing. We just wanted to make sure you know that we appreciate everything you've done for Il Volo, and we'll always remember the time you've spent working with us and the boys."

"Well…thanks, guys," I said softly. "I'll remember it too."

I set my camera aside and reached out to hug them, and they each held me tightly.

"But seriously, someone should have told me about this whole video thing! Come on, guys!"

They laughed.

"Goodnight, Tamzin," Michele said, smiling, and I waved and left, slinging my camera over my shoulder. I felt them watching me all the way out the door. Piero and Gianluca were standing in the hall, and they turned and smiled when I stepped out of the suite.

"Hi, Tamzin. We were waiting for you," Gianluca said, smiling gently at me.

"What for?"

"Just to tell you goodnight," Piero said, and he moved close and hugged me tightly for several moments. "Goodnight," he said softly, and then pulled back and kissed my cheek. Gianluca hugged me in the same way, tightly and lingeringly, and then kissed my cheek too.

"Is something…going on?" I asked questioningly when Gianluca pulled back.

"It's just a special night," Piero said, and Gianluca agreed.

"Okay. Well goodnight."

"Goodnight," they both said softly, and then I felt them watching me as I went into my suite and shut the door. I went about getting ready for bed, and when I got out the shower there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called.

"Guess."

I smiled and hurried to the door, pulling it open and crying out in surprise when Ignazio leaped forward and scooped me up, running a few steps forward and turning to collapse on the couch with me on his chest.

"Hey!" I said, laughing, and he laughed too and kissed me.

"So what'd you think? Of the video!?"

"It was brilliant, Ignazio. It really was. But like I told Michele and Barbara, you need to give me some warning!"

"No way! It was your surprise! I wanted it to be memorable."

"Oh, it was memorable, all right!"

"I brought you something, but it's in my pocket."

"Okay. I'll get up."

"No!" he protested when I started to get off of lying on top of him. "It can wait a minute!"

I laughed, and he hugged me tightly and kissed the top of my head.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

He was quiet, and when I glanced up I stared at him in surprise. His face was somber and serious, and he looked down at me with frightening sadness.

"Ignazio?" I asked, and he smiled slightly. I started to get up, but he stopped me again and kept hugging me tightly. I turned my face up to his and kissed him, and kept kissing him, and finally he released me and I got up. He sat up too and reached into his pocket, pulling out a flash drive labeled, "My dear Tamzin," which he handed to me.

"For your collection," he said, and some of the sparkle returned to his eye. "It's a copy of the video for you to keep."

"Oh, brilliant! Thanks, Ignazio!"

I leaned forward and kissed him again, and he smiled at me.

"You should go to bed now," he said.

"Why? We're not doing anything much tomorrow."

"It's just late. You should get some rest, my dear. I love you, Tamzin."

I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Will you kiss me goodnight?" he asked softly, and closed his eyes when I started to lean in. I kissed him and felt him kissing me back, and when I pulled away he stood up.

"I love you so much. Sleep well."

He turned and left, and I thought for a moment that I saw a glimmer of the sadness again just before he turned his face away, but maybe I was wrong. He closed the door, and I left it unlocked just in case he decided to come back.

I got up and uploaded a few photos from the concert, and discovered that Michele had posted the video the boys had made for me during the concert. Hundreds of comments expressing appreciation for me were flowing in, and I thought I might cry as I read them. I uploaded my photos and then went to bed smiling as I replayed the evening again and again in my mind.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Early the next morning I thought I heard a faint knocking sound and someone saying my name, but I dismissed it as being my imagination and groggily pulled up the blanket to my cheek. It was quiet and dark and warm in the hotel room, and I was relaxed and comfortable lying on my side in the hotel bed. I started immediately to drift back to sleep after having been woken up, until I felt a gentle hand tenderly touch my head and slowly stroke back my hair.

"Tamzin?" came Ignazio's soft murmur, immediately relaxing me again, "Wake up, my dear."

"Hey," I whispered without opening my eyes, comfortably feeling him slowly caressing my hair. "What are you doing in here?"

He leaned over me and gently touched his lips to my cheek.

"I'm sorry about coming in your room like this. The door was still unlocked, and I just thought it might be nicer than yelling for you from the hallway."

"No, sure, it's fine." I wanted to go back to sleep, but I opened my eyes and blinked up at him in the light from the crack in the door. He was dressed already, crouching beside the bed in his jeans and brown leather coat, even though it was still dark outside the window. "What are you telling me?" I asked groggily.

"It's time to get up."

"What? Why?" I swiftly propped myself up on my arm, squinting groggily at him.

"We have to leave in a little while."

I stared at him for a moment, thinking, and then sighed and shook my head in exasperation as I lay back down and closed my eyes.

"No, Ignazio, we don't leave for Boston until _tomorrow morning_! Pay attention! I'm going back to sleep."

"Change of plans. We're leaving today."

"What?"

I opened my eyes again, and then kicked back the covers and pushed myself up to sit on the mattress.

"Why?"

"Get up and get ready to go. Our flight leaves at 8:30, so we've got be there at around seven at the latest. I got you up early so you'll have enough time to get ready."

I turned and looked at the clock beside the bed, and yawned at the bright 5:30 on the screen.

"Why didn't Michele tell me? I'm going to talk to him."

"Wait!" I climbed out of the bed, and Ignazio stopped me from leaving the room. "You can't. He's busy. Just pack, and we'll go when you're ready."

"Why didn't he tell me about this?"

"Get dressed and get ready to leave, okay?"

"Ignazio!"

"Tamzin, do you love me?" he asked suddenly.

"What? Of course I do! What's going on!?"

"I just wanted to hear you say it."

He stepped close to me and gave me a long, tender kiss, and then stepped back and went to the door. "I'm going to get my things. You get ready and pack up to go."

"There better be a good reason for this! Ignazio, wait!"

He left, and I stared at the door in bewilderment and groggy agitation. I turned around and went to get dressed, my mind racing with confusion.

After I had dressed and packed all my things, Ignazio and I sat together in the living room to eat leftovers from the restaurant we went to the night before. I didn't feel much like eating, though, and I set the box on the coffee table and demanded I know what was going on.

"Why are we leaving early? When can I talk to Michele? Why did no one tell me about this? We're not in trouble, are we!?"

"No, Tamzin! Relax! Everything's okay. We're just leaving a little early, alright?"

"Why?"

"Because we've got to get where we're going sooner."

"But the Boston concert still isn't for a few days!"

"Eat breakfast, or you'll be hungry in the airport."

"Ignazio! I want to know what's going on!"

"You will! Eat!"

I glared at him, but reluctantly pulled the leftover box toward me and began to eat.

Soon Ignazio said it was time to go, and we gathered our things together and went out into the hallway.

"Where are the others?" I asked as we got into the elevator.

"Not here."

"Brilliant," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "And where are they? Have they left already?"

"No, Tamzin. Now come on."

The doors opened and he stepped out of the elevator, and I followed him, stormily glaring at his back.

We got into a cab by ourselves and Ignazio told the man the airport to drive to. It was getting light outside now, and cold. I pulled my red coat more tightly around me and looked up at Ignazio.

"Are we meeting them at the airport?"

He didn't answer me, gazing out the window with a forlorn look on his face, and for a moment I faltered in my questioning.

"Ignazio?" I reached out and touched him arm, and he turned his face toward me. "Are you okay?"

He put an arm around me and hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek, but the somber look on his face hushed me until we reached the airport.

As we went through security and Ignazio insisted on checking both of our bags, my mind was racing and I was looking almost frantically around for a glimpse of Piero, Gianluca, Barbara, Michele, or even one of the band members. I didn't see them anywhere, and as Ignazio and I walked through the airport to the coffee shop I started questioning him again, getting frustrated when he wouldn't answer.

"Ignazio! Where are the others!?" I demanded, and stopped walking, fearfully clutching my carry-on camera bag. He stopped and turned around, coming close to me and gently taking my arm.

"Come on, Tamzin, let's go."

"No! I asked you a question!" I pulled out of his grasp and crossed my arms, slinging the heavy camera bag over my shoulder.

"Just trust me!" he said pleadingly, his face looking scared that I wouldn't go with him.

"I do!" I insisted, dropping my arms to my sides as I looked up at him. "But I need some explanation, Ignazio!"

He looked forlornly at me for a moment, and then stepped forward and hugged me tightly. Surprised, I hugged him gingerly back, and then he pulled away and looked pleadingly at me.

"Just trust me."

He held out a hand, and I reluctantly took it, and he led me to the coffee shop, where we sat down and waited until we could board the plane. I sat quietly across from him, thinking, and then I looked over at him and saw him looking back.

"Ignazio…We're not going to Boston, are we?"

He stared quietly at me for a second, and then slowly shook his head.

"No."

"Are we…running away?"

"No! No, Tamzin, of course not! We're not running away."

"So the others know we're going?"

"Yes."

"Are we-"

"Hush, Tamzin."

"Don't hush me!" I cried, jumping up. "You're freaking me out! You're taking me God-knows-where to do God-knows-what and you won't give me any explanation and you're not answering any of my questions!"

Ignazio stood up too, trying desperately to quiet me as I began to attract the attention of people around us. "Ooh, I could punch you!" I said angrily, and Ignazio looked away from me, suddenly distracted.

"Come, on, they just called us," he said as some of the people around us started getting up, "We need to go now."

"Oh geez, I missed it!"

"If you hadn't been fussing me you would have heard. Come on, now."

"No!"

"Please, Tamzin! Please! You'll find out soon, I promise!"

"I want to know now!"

"Just trust me!"

"You know I don't like surprises!"

"I know, I know! Just trust me!"

He took my hand tightly in his and started to pull me along, and I glared at him but followed along behind him, so angry and nervous that I could cry in frustration.

I walked with him and then froze when I saw the destination written on the gate.

"Chicago, IL-Washington D.C."

"Washington D.C.," I said softly, and he squeezed my hand.

"Yes. Come on."

As we boarded the plane, my mind was racing as I tried to figure out what he was doing.

Soon we were sitting side by side, and he turned his head to me, his face suddenly sorrowful.

"I love you, Tamzin," he said softly.

"I love you too, Ignazio. Are you okay?"

"Here," he said, putting an arm around me and inviting me to lean against him. "We had to get up so early. Take a nap with me."

I stared at him for a moment more, and then moved closer and lay my head on his shoulder, intertwining my hand with his.

As I lay against him, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to ignore the impossible idea, the sneaking suspicion that entered my mind and filled me with both excitement and terror. I thought I had figured out what he was doing, and why he had concealed the destination until I absolutely had to know where we were going.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

As we landed in Washington D.C., I quietly clung to Ignazio's hand as we left the plane and gathered our things. Ignazio called a cab and asked to be driven to a specific hotel. As we were being brought to the hotel, I looked up curiously at him.

"Soon?" I asked.

"Almost," he replied, and I nodded and jiggled my feet nervously as we sped down the cold roads to the hotel. After Ignazio had claimed our apparently pre-made reservations for adjacent suites, we went up together and put our things down. After I had set down my bags beside the sofa in my suite, I went to the window and pulled back the dark blue curtains to peer out at the city. A light snow had just fallen, and everything was cold and icy and bare. Everyone was used to the snow, and no one was outside playing in it. The freezing weather was too routine and expected here. I touched the glass and shivered. I hated the cold, and I let the curtains fall again when I heard the door behind me open.

Ignazio smiled sadly at me and closed it behind him, and then came forward and stood in the middle of the room. I watched him quietly for a moment, and then slowly moved away from the window to stand a few feet in front of him. We looked quietly at each other for a moment, and then I decided it was time to ask.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Washington D.C."

"I know that. I mean specifically."

"The home of the National Geographic Headquarters."

His gentle voice could not stop the blow the realization delivered me, that my muffled suspicion had been right.

"I knew it," I said softly, and he nodded, his eyes sad and lonely. "That's why you didn't want me to know where we were going. You thought I'd resist."

He nodded sadly. "The closer you were to getting on that plane, the harder it'd be for you not to get on the flight with me."

I fell quiet, watching him sadly.

"You're sending me away?"

"No! Oh, no, Tamzin!" he exclaimed, coming hurriedly to me and taking me by the arms. "I'm letting you go."

"But how can you do that? What about the contract?"

"I talked to Michele, and he agreed to break it."

My breath was fast and unsteady, and I stared up at him in stunned silence.

"I sent them your pictures when we were in Marsala," he explained, "The day you couldn't find the flash drives. I told them you were available to try working with them, and they snatched up the offer right away. They want you, Tamzin. You're an amazing landscape photographer, and they want you. You're going to work for them instead of us. They'll give you an entry assignment, and they'll see how you fare on that and decide where to put you next."

My heart leaped in excitement, but then in a wave of fearful sorrow I pulled away from him and shook my head.

"You can't do this. I can't stay here!"

"Yes, you can! Don't you want to!?"

I stared longingly into his face, reluctant to admit it.

"But, Ignazio, what about Il Volo!?"

"Don't worry about us! You did so much for us, Tamzin, but now it's time to let you go. I knew you were always still thinking about being a professional landscape photographer, but I wanted to believe you could stay with us and forget about it. But you can't forget about it, Tamzin. You'd never have been able to forget about it if you stayed with us!"

"I could have tried!"

"No, Tamzin! This is your dream. Since you started working with us, this has been your dream, and it still is your dream, right?"

It was. He knew it was, and so did I. Excitement pulsed through me at the idea of it, but sorrow at the idea of leaving Il Volo overwhelmed me and muffled it. But I couldn't yet bear to say yes and accept what he was doing.

"Tamzin, I don't want you always chasing down a dream that's out of your reach!"

"But I told you I'd give it up to stay with you! I told you I'd learn to accept not knowing!"

"Tamzin, we both know you can't do that!"

I was crying now, tears running down my cheeks, and he started crying too as he spoke, raising his voice to make me listen.

"For so long you've been doing everything you could to give me my dream! Do you remember what you said before the AMAs!? You told me I deserve to have my dream! Well, you deserve to have your dream too, okay!? And maybe that's not with me!"

I fell into his arms, crying, and he held me tightly to him, enveloping me in his grasp, crying with me. I clung to him, my face buried in his shoulder, scared that the moment I let go he would vanish.

"I don't want to leave you! I'll miss you so much!"

"I'll miss you, too, but you have to go, Tamzin! You have to."

He held me tightly as we cried together, and he held my head against his shoulder and leaned his head against mine. After a few minutes of sobbing I looked up at him and asked, "But I can always decide to come back, can't I?"

He sighed and pressed my head into his shoulder again.

"Tamzin…I don't…think…you'll be coming back," he choked out, and I kept crying because I realized he was probably right.

Ignazio went out into the freezing D.C. weather to find us something to eat, and I stayed in my hotel room to think, holding my camera in my hands and sitting on the sofa. Excitement coursed through me at the idea of finally being able to be a full-time landscape photographer, and thinking of places I could be sent by National Geographic exhilarated me. I pictured myself romping through the mountains of Germany, or the French coasts, or even vast Egyptian deserts with my camera and my laughter echoing around me.

It was what I had desired for so many years, my dream ever since I was a little girl! Now that I was so close, I was overjoyed and excited and terrified all at once.

I was about to start something amazing, but the knowledge of what I was leaving behind crushed me and made my heart sink. Leaving Il Volo would be the hardest thing I'd ever done, and the thought of never seeing Ignazio again made me what to run into his arms and latch onto him forever. My chest already ached with sadness as I missed cheerful Barbara, steadfast Michele, and sweet Piero and Gianluca. The sorrow almost made me want to throw away all of my National Geographic fantasies and stay with them forever. But I knew Ignazio was right: I would never be able to accept not knowing. My dream was so dear to my heart that I could never just forget about it.

Ignazio returned and I leaped up and raced into his arms, and then we sat down to eat. Neither of us was hungry, but Ignazio encouraged me to eat before I went to meet the National Geographic people in the afternoon. So I tried, but my chest ached with sorrow as I gazed at Ignazio. As we watched each other, we came close to tears over and over again and had to regain our composure or we might not be able to stop the crying that would commence.

"When are you leaving?" I asked softly.

"Midday tomorrow I'm leaving for Boston."

"Oh. I'll come to the airport with you."

"Thank you…Are you excited about the meeting later?"

"Yes…excited and terrified."

Soon it was time to leave, and I pulled on my red coat and scarf and my high-tops, and after slinging my camera over my shoulder and filling my pockets with flash drives, we were off. When we pulled up to the Headquarters in downtown D.C., Ignazio and I both stared up open-mouthed at the enormous white building rising elegantly into the sky. There was a gargantuan slotted square building, and on its side was a huge geometric slightly s-shaped building with a garden on the ledge of every level.

Ignazio and I walked silently beside the huge garden separating the two buildings, staring around us at the place's majesty and splendor.

"Brilliant," I whispered, awestruck, and he nodded, his eyebrows raised, and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket noting where we were to enter. We made our way along the side of the square building to where the private offices were located and were let in by a worker at the door.

"Ms. Montgomery! Welcome!" the man said, stepping aside and letting us into a huge waiting room. There were elegant chairs and sofas circled around the spacious room, with a huge N.G. logo stuck onto the wall aside dozens of framed iconic photographs.

We sat for only a minute before a woman raced into the room and greeted us exuberantly.

"Tamzin Montgomery! It's a pleasure to meet you! We've had our eye on you for a while now!"

She took us into her huge white office filled with past magazines and photos, and we sat in front of the desk looking around as an intern came in and poured us coffee.

"So," the woman said, folding her hands on the desk and smiling eagerly at me, "Let's discuss your entry assignment, shall we?"

"Africa? The communities are in Africa?"

She nodded, smiling eagerly. I stared blankly at her, trying to process this information, and I turned my head to look at Ignazio, who continued staring stonily forward.

"Yes, that's where the communities are. Like I said, you'll be staying in four different ones along the southern part of the continent, for a week each. So for you, this will be a relatively short project."

"My starting project…" I comprehended, and she nodded. "So explain to me again what happens after I finish it."

"This is to see where your expertise lies. We know already you'll be able to handle the photography, but we want to see how you fare in the environment. From this project, we'll be able to gauge where we should place you next, and then you'll sign your contract promising to continue working with us. Right now you'll be operating without a contract to make sure you can handle the lifestyle."

"I'll be traveling alone?"

"No. The reason we wanted no delay in getting you here was because the project's overseer, Monica, is returning to Africa to check on its progress. While you are out doing your landscape photography, she'll be working within the communities, reviewing the work of the journalists who have been there for several weeks now. Monica was displeased with the work of their former photographer, and when Mr. Boschetto here contacted us she demanded she get to have your entry project."

"Oh."

I sat quietly, staring straight forward as I processed all the information. I was a mix of both excited and horrified as I thought of the opportunity, and then of how far it would be from Ignazio.

"Tell me about life in the communities," I said, and she smiled and pulled a folder out of a drawer, which she slid toward me across the desk. I opened it, and Ignazio and I looked at the photos of the different places.

"You'll be living as the people in the communities do, in huts within their reserves. You'll live as they do, eating their food, sleeping on a mat, and washing in a community water supply or outdoor shower. I know it sounds rugged, but we like that you'll be completely immersed in the culture. It will help you to be able to get the best photographs if you understand the lifestyle of the country's inhabitants, and you'll be able to most accurately reflect the feel of the country."

"Look at that background," I murmured, entranced by the dark purple of the sky in the photo. My heart rate was picking up excitedly as I flipped through the photos, looking past the people into the rich colors of a vibrant, far-off realm. "Wow."

"It looks amazing," Ignazio said softly, and I looked up at him, pulled suddenly from my trance with a deep burst of sorrow. "I know you'll love it."

We looked at each other quietly, and I felt heat behind my eyes, feeling the agony of missing him rising in my chest.

"I'll send you pictures," I responded, also speaking softly, as if raising my voice would make him break into pieces and disappear forever.

"Actually," the woman at the desk said, her voice quieting, and we looked up. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but there will be no cell service whatsoever."

"No cell service!?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"None. For this project there will be minimal contact with the outside world. This will help you to be fully engaged in these places. However, you will be able to send letters to loved ones whenever the plane bringing supplies comes, about once every two weeks."

I stared, stunned, and then I shut the folder with a snap and dropped it on the desk. I stood up suddenly, and Ignazio looked up at me in surprise.

"Tamzin?"

"Excuse me," I said to the woman, "Ignazio, can I speak to you for a moment outside?"

He got up immediately and followed me out the office, and I quietly shut the door behind me and turned to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his stony expression replaced by a tender, worried sincerity, and I shook my head.

"I can't do this."

"You can," he said quickly, taking my arms firmly. "And you will."

"No!" I exclaimed, pulling away from him, "You can't make me go!"

"You're going to love it! I know you will. Don't you know?"

"But, Ignazio!" I protested, not answering his question, "No contact with the outside world!?"

"Shh!" he said, looking worriedly at the door. "It'll be okay!"

"When is your flight, again?"

"Midday tomorrow."

"I'll go back with you! It doesn't matter; I don't have to know!"

"No, Tamzin! You know you can't do that! Just wait! It'll be okay, you'll see!"

"You don't know that! I can't go, Ignazio!"

"Just wait! Everything will be okay."

His anguished expression revealed he was trying to convince himself as well, and I started to cry, stepping forward and throwing my arms around him.

"I'll miss you!" I said, my breathing fast and sharp, "I'll miss you so much!"

He held me tightly and kissed the top of my head.

"I love you, Tamzin. You'll be always in my heart."

"I want to be in your arms, too!" I exclaimed suddenly, and turned my face upward and kissed him.

He released me and gently took my face in his hands when I pulled back, and for a moment we just gazed at each other. He was trying not to cry, and he tenderly wiped away my tears.

"Do you remember that Il Volo means "the flight"?"

"Of course!"

His voice quivered as he spoke, but he finally managed to get out the sorrowful words.

"Tamzin, thank you for flying with us, but this is where you get off."

I stared silently at him, and then all the fight went out of me at once and my body relaxed. He moved his hands and my head drooped.

"I love you," he said softly. "You have to go."

"I love you too," I whispered, and then, "...I know."

I reached out my hand uncertainly, and he immediately took it and held it tightly. I took a deep breath, and then stood up straight and looked toward the door. I strode forward with Ignazio walking beside me and opened it. I went up to the desk and nodded at the woman.

"When do I leave?"


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

When Ignazio took me out to dinner in the evening, we tried to maintain normal conversation, but it was very difficult. Some moments we were speaking as if everything was normal, but our fluctuating moods made normality difficult to uphold, with our excited smiles and my trembling, and then our spells of blinking back tears as we gazed at each other for the last evening.

In the cab on the way back to the hotel, I pressed my forehead against the freezing window and peered out at the dead trees and grass quivering in the bitter wind under a coating of ice, and then up at the stars, winking in the dark sky and glowing brilliantly.

Ignazio laid a hand gently on my back, and I turned away from the window and laid my head on his shoulder, feeling his arm move around me and hold me tightly.

As I took a warm shower in my suite, I thought of all the places I would be in only a few days. I imagined running through Africa, and I could almost feel the dirt under my high-tops, smell the baking grass and feel the bark of those funny little off-balance African trees. Before my eyes I saw brilliant orange sunsets and blue skies, with the sun and moon completely visible above the plain, all the colors dancing with nothing to obstruct them.

My heart raced as quick as the images, and as I ran my hands over my dripping face I felt them trembling with excitement. I was going to be working for National Geographic. After all this time, all these years of work, I was finally going to have nothing else to do but romp through the earth capturing its beauty, and the realization filled me with brilliant exhilaration.

My laugh interrupted the rushing sound of the water, and my mouth was immediately filled with it so that my laugh turned gurgly and funny. I spit out the water and laughed again, turning my face up gleefully to the stream.

After I had scurried out of the shower and danced into the living room, I swept up my camera in my arms and fell onto the couch, laughing and hugging it to my chest.

Then I heard a knock on the door and I leaped up and raced to it, throwing it open and beaming at Ignazio.

"Tamzin!" he cried happily, and came into the room and shut the door behind him. "It's so good to hear you laughing!"

"I'm so excited!" I exclaimed.

"Good! Good! I just came to tell you goodnight."

"Oh. Okay."

I moved closer to him and hugged him tightly. His arms went immediately around my back, and we fell silent, holding each other. I buried my face in his neck and felt the rise and fall of his chest, and my heart rate slowly returned to normal. My glee was replaced with a deep longing and anguish, and the hug became me clinging to him.

"I love you," I whispered after a moment.

"I love you too," he responded.

I turned my face up to his, and he kissed me tenderly and lingeringly. I gazed up at him, feeling the sorrow in my chest, and I felt like crying.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked softly, and I nodded. He moved his hand gently around my waist, and then held out his other hand. I took it and laid my head on his shoulder, and we started to sway back and forth, turning slowly in the circle that would too soon be broken.

I closed my eyes when he began to sing, silently listening to him as he held me close.

_"Questo amore splendido…Questo immenso senso di felicita…Lo devo solo a te…"_

Slowly, we swayed back and forth in the warm hotel room, both in T-shirts and pajama bottoms, sorrow filling our hearts at what was to come and clinging onto every last moment we had together. But at last, the song had to end, and Ignazio sang the last few words, _"Lo devo solo a te…"_

Then the room fell silent, and we stopped dancing. We stood in the middle of the room, listening to the resounding silence, not wanting to let go of each other and submit to its oblivion. Finally, Ignazio released me and pulled back, and I looked up at him and saw him crying, and I realized I was crying too.

He leaned forward and kissed me, and then kissed me again and again.

"Goodnight, my dear," he whispered, pulling back and leaning his head against mine.

"Goodnight, Ignazio."

He stepped away and walked slowly backward to the door, watching me. He reached behind him and opened it slowly, not breaking the spell of the quiet, and then he left the room and was gone.

I stayed standing there for a moment, the silence loud and piercing around me. I felt completely alone. I sank to my knees, stunned and silent in the observing noiselessness. I sat back slowly, staring at the door where I had last seen Ignazio. Then my quick shudder of a breath broke the quiet, and as the quick, tearful breaths commenced, I pulled my knees to my chest and drew into myself, hiding from the cruel, lonely atmosphere.

My head was buried in my arms, and I cried as I felt the depressing solitude of his absence, the first taste of an ache that would pursue for such a long time afterward. There was so much to gain, so much good to obtain by starting out on this journey, but there was also so much to be lost. Never had my emotions been so conflicted-one moment my heart was racing with excitement and the next thudding along, weighed down by the pressing sadness of losing Ignazio.

My wrists and the knees of my pajama pants were getting soggy with tears, and I kept sniffling and trying to smother that desperate sobbing sound I didn't want to hear. My breathing was quick and ragged as I imagined so many days without him stretching before me, the pain of leaving behind something to start something new.

I stayed there drawn into myself in the middle of the floor for several long minutes, until I was finally able to drag myself into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. As I went about brushing my teeth and hair, I continued gasping as a little child does when there are no more tears to cry.

I was drained and exhausted, so I turned out all the lights and crawled under the covers of the unfamiliar hotel bed, expecting to fall asleep quickly. But as soon as I was lying there in the quiet, with my continued breathing spasms the only audible sign of life, I knew I wasn't going to fall asleep there. I pushed back the covers and sat up, staring sorrowfully into the darkness, and I pressed my fists into my eyes as a wave of loneliness overcame me.

In one quick motion I suddenly threw off the covers and leapt from the bed, stumbling and scrambling through the blackness of the rooms until I fell against the door and caught the cold handle. I flung it open and snatched up my red high-tops in the bright glow of the hallway, then dashed down the hallway to the neighboring suite. I paused, and then quietly took the handle and opened it, stepping into the wonderful warm glow of the room's lamplight. I shut the door behind me and blissfully took in the sights of the leather jacket draped over a chair, the open suitcase in the corner, the tennis shoes beside the door and the headphones on the counter. He was not in the room, and I immediately sprinted to the bedroom in a sudden frenzy and pushed open the door, almost falling onto the floor in relief when I took in the sight of him.

He was sitting up on the bed, atop the covers, and he had been staring at his open, empty hands in his lap, but at my entrance he looked up, startled, and then thrust his arms out to me.

"Oh, my dear!"

"Ignazio!" I cried, and ran forward, climbing onto the bed and falling into his arms. He turned me sideways on his lap and wrapped his arms around me, holding my head against his shoulder.

"I know," he murmured sadly when my quick, sorrowful breathing could be heard. He cuddled me to him and kissed my neck. "I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered, and clung to him and felt him holding me for the last time. Nothing could have pulled me out of that embrace, and so I stayed there in his warm, loving arms, being held and kissed and cuddled as the night progressed.

The bedroom door was open, but I liked the warm glow of the lamplight outside the room, letting me see Ignazio's face. I peered up at him and gazed at the dark silky hair, the deep brown eyes, the thick eyebrows and tender expression. Neither of us spoke anymore, but just felt each other's embrace.

I was exhausted from crying, and his arms were warm and safe and comfortable. I closed my eyes and rested my hand against the soft fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest under my hand. He leaned his head against mine and was completely still, his hands strong and safe around me.

When I was comfortably dozing, he slowly stirred, and I kept my eyes closed as I felt him gently move backwards with me in his arms, tilting me more against him so he could keep me steady. After a moment I heard the soft sound of the comforter moving, and then he turned and gently laid me on my side, moving slowly so he wouldn't disturb me too much. His hands left me and I opened my eyes, but closed them when he leaned over me and softly kissed my cheek. He lay beside me and pulled the comforter over both of us, and then I felt him move close to me and his arm go around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. With Ignazio relaxed against my back, his arm resting protectively over me, I closed my eyes again and quickly fell asleep next to him, reveling in his presence.

When I awoke in the morning, Ignazio was gone. As soon as I noticed his absence I was up and scrambling out of the room, throwing open the bedroom door that had since been closed. I stopped, smiling as relief flooded through me when I saw him in the kitchen.

"Good morning, my dear," he said, turning and smiling wide at me, making his dimples appear.

We spent the morning gulping down our last few hours together, not speaking of the looming separation. We danced together in the hotel room and he sang to me, and we talked about Piero and Gianluca and laughed about the great times we spent together on our travels.

I was so excited to leave for Africa in only a few days, but as Ignazio stood before me I was aware of the narrowing time frame and the underlying panicky feeling that accompanies knowing you're about to lose something precious but can't do anything to stop it.

Too soon, it was time for him to pack. He knelt on the floor folding clothes and carefully putting them into the suitcase. As he packed, I went around the room collecting some of his things and bringing them to him, slowly and reflectively, feeling his CDs, his headphones, his jacket in my hands. As he put the final belongings in I knelt in front of him and studied him, quietly watching him put the things in the suitcase. Then he looked up at me, smiling sadly, and I watched as he slowly closed and zipped it. He pulled on his jacket and knelt there, looking at me, and I gazed back. He checked his watch.

"It's time to go," he whispered, as if afraid to speak the desolate words too loudly, and I nodded. We got to our feet, and he pulled the suitcase out into the hallway, stopping at the door to turn off the light. We stopped at my room so I could get on my coat and scarf, and then we went down to the lobby to check out and then into the freezing air. Ignazio got a taxi, and as we approached the airport, I turned my head to him and gazed at him.

"Ignazio?" He was already looking at me, sadly, the cheerful candor gone from his eyes. "I'm scared."

He reached out and wrapped an arm around me, drawing me close to him and hugging me.

"You just hang on. It'll be alright."

I nodded, and he kissed me gently.

The minutes raced by, confused and scurrying away from the chaos of the D.C. airport. Too quickly were we standing there with the announcer calling that Ignazio's flight was about to board. We stood there staring despondently at each other, my heart sinking as I anticipated the moment when he'd be out of my sight forever.

"I love you," he choked out, and then I stepped forward and was enveloped in his arms.

"I love you too."

"I'll miss you so much. But be a brave girl for me, alright?"

"I will. You just wait. I'll be brilliant!" I looked up at him, my lip trembling. "This is so hard, Ignazio… But thank you for doing this."

"I'm so proud of you. Follow your dreams, Tamzin."

"I will."

He cupped my face in his hand and pressed his lips tenderly to mine, giving me one last kiss.

When he pulled back, a tear streamed down my cheek, and as he gently wiped it with his thumb he looked as if his heart was already broken.

"Well, my dear…" he said, his voice desolate, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Ignazio."

His hand left my face and he took a few steps back. I had the powerful urge to run forward and grab onto him and keep him with me, but I stayed. He turned, still watching me over his shoulder as he began to walk forward. Then, as he moved farther and farther away and people began to move between us, he blew me one last kiss and turned away. I watched his figure shrinking as he walked away, the pain in my chest heightening and the sorrow growing unbearable. But I couldn't flee from the loneliness into his arms anymore. He was gone. There was no one to catch my tears now, and people walked around me obliviously as they spilled over my cheeks.

I entered into my own hotel suite and shut the door behind me. I just stood there silently for a moment, looking at the seeming emptiness of the room. All my things were there, strewn around the room in my careless fashion, but they were still and lonely and quiet.

Pretending not to notice the tightness in my chest and determined not to cry, I pulled off my coat and went into the bedroom, throwing it onto the bed. I was about to go back to the living room, but then I stopped, a white envelope on the lamp table catching my eye. I ran across the room to it and swiped it off the table, seeing my name written on it in Ignazio's handwriting.

I tore it open desperately and pulled out the folded piece of notebook paper.

_"My dear Tamzin,_

_ I hope you know that this is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. The idea of going back to our little group and having you missing from it is heartbreaking. I keep trying to soothe myself with the reminder that once I was happy without you, but it doesn't help because now I know. I know all about you; your ambition, your excited laughter, the way you carry out projects with such conviction, and the way you can be both sweet and manipulative to people trying to stand in Il Volo's way! And I know that I love you. And I know how good we are together. But just like I can't deal with the thought of not having known you, neither can you deal with not knowing what it would be like to live your dream. As much as I want you to be with me, I can't keep you here with you not knowing. It's your turn to fly, and I know for certain that you will. I look forward to seeing your work, and I hope you have more fun than you ever did before. Do you know the phrase "If you love something, let it go?" I'm clinging to that phrase now. _

_I'll love you forever. Please be safe,_

_Ignazio Boschetto."_

Now I cried.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

I hated the days that followed after his leaving, in which I stayed alone in that desolate hotel room, waiting for something to happen. With nothing to occupy my time except for the few preparations for my travel, I was entirely aware of the absence of him, and there was an incessant longing in my chest. I tried to distract myself, leaving the room over and over to find things to do in the city and look for places to photograph, but everything was cold and dead in the bitter wind, and the loneliness of the room was almost preferable.

The suite was one of the last places I'd seen him, and it was agonizing to think that only a few days earlier I had been dancing with him in that very room, hearing his voice, feeling his arms around me. It took all my strength not to jump on a place and fly to Boston to meet him. The minutes stretched out long and teasingly before me as I waited in agony for the day when I was to leave for Africa. There was nothing to do in the hotel anymore but sit and miss him, and I missed him so much it felt like my chest was always sore and my eyes were always wet.

Finally, the day came when I would leave and meet Monica at the N.G. Headquarters to leave. I knelt on the cold floor of the hotel room as I put my things one by one into my suitcase. I somberly folded my Il Volo T-shirt and put it in, stacked up the Il Volo CDs, rolled up the tour schedule, and looked around the room, one of the last places Ignazio had been. It was as if I felt the ghost of him in the room, and I clung onto the knowledge that at one point, he had been in this room with me. I finally gathered the strength to get up, gather up my things, and, after a moment's hesitation, turn off the light. I stepped into the hallway, still staring forlornly into the dark room, and then slowly closed the door, locking myself out and his ghost in.

Monica was a spirited, eager, professional woman who was very pleased to have me along on her project. She was tall, caramel-colored, and very beautiful, and I liked her immediately. She greeted me warmly and as we went to the airport together she told me all about the project and Malawi, the first place we would be staying in. Hearing her speak so passionately about the project excited me, and I listened intently and energetically as she spoke. I dreamed about what it would be like to be there, and for a while I played contently with the idea in my mind.

Eventually, though, I reverted to my somber anguish as the plane took off and we were leaving D.C. I looked out the window sadly, and felt the pull on my heart toward Ignazio, who was already long gone. We had both come to D.C. to depart from each other, and now I was taking my leave.

"Tamzin?" Monica asked, and I straightened and turned my head to her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You can tell me what it is, Tamzin."

Her face was inviting and motherly, and I sighed and leaned my head against the window.

"I'm so excited for this job, Monica! I've been dreaming of it for so long! But…I had to leave someone I love behind, and it hurts."

"Was it a boyfriend?"

I nodded.

"His name was…_is_ Ignazio. He's the one who contacted National Geographic for me."

"Did he?" she said, her voice understanding and comforting, "That's great of him."

I nodded, and then sat up straight. "His name is Ignazio Boschetto, and I was the photographer for the group he's in, Il Volo."

"How was that?"

I smiled and turned toward her, thinking of where to begin.

Several hours later, we landed in Malawi, and with my first look outside of the airport I was enthralled. It was beautiful, with mountains and high plateaus. Monica explained to me that the country was in its rainy season, offering lush vegetation in the higher places while the low-lying areas were covered with savannas and wildlife. I couldn't wait to run off and see the famous Lake Malawi and the beaches, and I gazed around us as we got into a car waiting for us and drove to the community we'd be staying in. When we arrived, I climbed slowly from the car, entranced by the little community of thatched huts on the flat earth, with rolling hills far off in the background. The sky was a bright blue with fluffy white clouds, and I could see crops around me and people working in them. It was warm, but not uncomfortable at all. It felt pretty nice, especially in my lightweight white shirt and khakis, with my red high-tops bright against the dirt.

I slung my camera over my shoulder and followed Monica among the little houses, eventually meeting up with people she knew. She led me to a small hut, and I went inside alone and took my things with me. There was an actual bed inside, instead of a mattress, with sheets and pillows and a mosquito net over it, and there was a little table with a chair where I could sit and review my photos. I traced my fingers along the rounded wooden wall and admired the thatching of the roof.

My mind racing as I took in the atmosphere of the little hut, I unpacked my suitcase, setting things up on the table and laying out some of my belongings on the bed. I took out the Il Volo CDs and paused for a moment to look at them, tracing the outline of Ignazio with my finger.

Then I heard some kids laughing outside, and I broke from my reverie and moved to the doorway, looking out past the community at the hills. My heart rate began to pick up, and I grabbed my camera and raced from the hut. I jogged through the community, searching excitedly for Monica, passing African men and women who smiled and nodded at me. At least I found her sitting with some American journalists on a log in the center of the community, and I sprinted up to her.

"Monica!" I called eagerly, my heart racing in my chest. "What happens now!?"

She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun and smiled up at me, reaching into her pocket to dig out something. She tossed the thing to me, and I caught the glinting car keys and then looked up at her, a slow smile alighting my face.

"Go," she said.

"Really!? By myself!?"

"Yes! You are authorized to go alone on any of the reserves, and I'd like it if you ventured far. Just be careful; there's a lot of big game here."

"Thank you!" I called as I turned and dashed away, racing through the community to the car.

As I drove off-road through the savannah, my eager laughter eventually ceased and was replaced by a gnawing, aching fear. I quieted and listened to the rumble of the car's engine as I drove and worried. I soon reached a dirt trail leading through an expanse of crops to a majestic plateau standing tall to meet the clouds. I slowed the car and stopped, slinging my camera over my shoulder and leaning forward to peer up at it.

I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, and I sat still, listening to the quiet, poised to leap from the car but remaining motionless. I was terrified. This was my first shoot as a National Geographic photographer, and I was scared it would turn out to be bad. What if this shoot revealed that my dreaming was misguided, and this wasn't really what I wanted? But then I was also terrified it'd be good; because that meant seeing that this could work and that Ignazio was someone of the past.

I pulled my camera hard into my chest and imagined him standing before me in the hallway of the N.G. Headquarters, telling me, "_You're going to love it! I know you will_." in that gentle, sorrowful voice.

I took a deep breath, taking in the cool Malawi air. Then I vaulted from the car and took off sprinting toward the plateau before I could think anymore. As I ran, my red high-tops slapping against the ground and my hair flying out behind me, my heart began to race again with excitement and I laughed, feeling the promise of an amazing adventure in the air.

Over the next few days that I spent in Malawi, I had intense fluctuating emotions. The landscape sessions were amazing and exhilarating, and just as exciting as I thought they'd be. Running through the wilderness was so invigorating and familiar to me, and I loved every second of it. It was just as much fun as when I had been racing through the landscapes of the varying tour stops with Il Volo, seeing what the world had to offer me, but now I had all the time in the world to explore. I knew as I took my photos and presented them to Monica that I was doing what I was meant to be doing. I was always meant to be a photographer, and there was nothing stopping me here from doing what I wanted to do, going where I wanted to go. I was exuberant and ambitious, and when I got going nothing could stop me from my romping. I wandered alone through the country, climbing the mountains, wandering through the crops, wading in the river and walking on the perfect white beaches with my high-tops in my hand. Each day I drove far from the huts and disappeared, always returning in the evening for a wash under the showers before going to sleep in my hut.

The hut was nice, but I didn't like it because inside was where things slowed down. Whenever I stopped the rompings and the exhilaration calmed, I was left with the silent agony of the absence of Ignazio. The emptiness of being alone overwhelmed me when I returned from a shoot and when I drove home, fully aware that Ignazio would not be waiting for me in the community. I could not show him my photos anymore. I couldn't see him or talk to him or touch him, and it was as if he had just disappeared off the face of the earth. My only proof that he had ever existed were the CDs, the tour schedule, my diamond necklace, and the handwritten good-bye note. I remembered the sound of his voice, the dimples in his cheeks and the playful shine in his eyes, the way he teased and laughed and sang. I reminisced about how his lips felt against mine, what it felt like to have his arm around me, how much fun it was to dance with him. These joyful memories left me in despair, and I felt the longing for him whenever I slowed down. I couldn't help but think of him when I drove, when rain held me up, when I sat down to eat, when I took a shower, and especially when I lay down to sleep and knew he wasn't in a nearby room. Going to sleep was the worst, because there was nothing to do but imagine him over and over, and think about what he was doing now. I knew he went to Indianapolis from the tour schedule I held onto, and I imagined the boys in concert, meeting fans, playing around with Barbara and Michele, lounging in the hotel rooms, and jamming with the band. I missed them so much, and every once in a while I couldn't stop the tears or the urge to just say his name and feel the sweetness of it in my mouth.

Over and over I longed to be with the boys instead of where I was, but then I reminded myself that this was where I was supposed to be.

I kept the good-bye note beside the bed and read it again and again, the last thing I had received from him. He said in it that he tried to comfort himself with the idea that he once was happy without me, but it wasn't a comfort because now he knew me. I realized how right he was, and I too couldn't bear the idea of not having known him.

Carrying both times of agonized despair and exhilarated triumph, the days in Malawi passed, and soon I found myself in the country of Mozambique, walking on the beaches, wandering along dirt streets, running through plains and looking up at mountains.

My fluctuating emotions continued, but as I worked, I began to feel as if I wasn't in so much of a transition anymore. I began to feel like less of a misplaced Il Volo associate and more of a National Geographic employee. I had been working for over a week now with National Geographic, and I felt as if I completely knew what I was doing. Monica mostly let me do whatever I wanted and helped fuel my excitement when I returned to her with my photos.

One evening as I sat in the midst of the Mozambique community watching some children play, I became aware of my changing identity. I was becoming Tamzin, National Geographic's photographer instead of Tamzin, Il Volo's photographer. This unnerved me, and I remembered when Ignazio had insisted that I was so much more than Il Volo's photographer. I smiled sadly, and wondered if I'd ever feel like more than a photographer for National Geographic, if I'd ever have relationships like I did with the people involved with Il Volo.

Monica was my friend, though. She was cheerful and understanding, and she loved that I was just as passionate about working for her as she was to be working on her project. She was also aware of my sudden moodiness when things calmed down, and knew I was thinking about Ignazio because I had told her a lot about him.

We were sharing a larger hut in Mozambique, and one day as I was sitting on my mattress thinking as I played with my camera strap, she came in and sat beside me.

"A supplies plane is coming in tomorrow. Maybe they'll bring a letter from him."

"Really!?" I asked, sitting up straight and smiling.

"Yes. And I'm about to send one of my journalists back to Headquarters with the research we've gathered, and with your photos. You can write a letter to be taken to the U.S. and mailed."

She left to talk with a journalist in a different hut, and as I took out some paper and a pen, it slowly began to rain outside. It was Mozambique's rainy season too, and I listened to it as I began my letter, my mind racing with things to say to him.

_Dear Ignazio,_

_ I miss you._

I stared forlornly at the words. I missed him, but it was so much deeper than just that! How could I convey the agony that filled me at his absence, the pain of losing something so precious, missing out on someone you love. I was afraid that before long it would change from missing him to not knowing him at all, clinging onto and loving the idea of him while the real Ignazio grew and changed.

I stared at the words, shaking my head slowly, and then started to cry. As the rain poured over the thatched hut and drowned out my gasping, I wrote the same phrase again. And again. And again, as if writing that I missed him over and over would help him to understand how much I missed him. When I had filled the page, I stopped and wiped my eyes, and then turned over the sheet. I started to tell him about everything that had been going on, from the last moment I had seen him at the airport, to life in Malawi, to the present in Mozambique. I filled several sheets of paper, wanting him to know every detail in an effort to keep him aware of me.

Finally, I had nothing else to write except more I-miss-you's, so I ended the letter and tucked all the pages into an envelope, wishingly kissing it before I placed it on Monica's pillow and buried my face in my own.

The next evening Monica gave me the letter from Ignazio, and at the sight of his handwriting my heart swelled with simultaneous joy and longing. I clasped it to my chest and ran through the darkness to the hut, turning on a flashlight and sitting on the bed to read it, smiling at the familiar script.

_Hi my dear,_

_ I hope you're enjoying yourself in Africa. I hope you're safe and having fun romping through the countries. I'll bet that there's not an inch of land you haven't photographed! I hope to see your pictures soon! I called National Geographic a few times begging for a sneak peek, and even they told me to be patient! I miss you so much, Tamzin. I can't even fully express how much I miss you, my dear, but I haven't stopped thinking about you and scrolling through my pictures of you and the old pictures you've taken. In my head I keep going back to that airport over and over, that last time I saw you, and hoping I'll be able to see you again someday. And I'm not the only one missing you, either! You should see Gianluca and Piero! Piero has no one to tease anymore, and Gianluca is especially quiet. Michele and Barbara miss you too, and it's a lot less lively without you around. We all wish you were still here, but we keep in mind you're living your dream now and we're doing the best we can without our photographer. I hope to hear soon about how your first assignment is going, if you can stop exploring for a few moments to write! Anyway, I thought you might want to hear about the happenings of Il Volo since you left, our travel to Boston and Indianapolis…_

He spent several pages describing what went on in their touring since I left, and I loved reading it, even if most of it was just the usual touring details. The writing was cheerful and playful, just like him, and I could clearly imagine him saying everything he wrote. I kept smiling until the very end, when I had to face that the letter was over. I read it again and again, but then decided I had to return to reality.

I sat quietly for a moment holding the letter to my chest before I got up and left the hut, going to sit beside Monica in front of the fire in the midst of the community.

"Good?" she asked, smiling as she read some papers by the light of the flames.

"Good," I said.

I pulled my knees to my chest and watched the flames flickering, reliving fond memories of Il Volo in my mind and smiling. After several minutes, I looked around me at the huts, at the Mozambique landscape, at the clear African night sky filled with thousands of flickering stars, and at the other people sitting around the fire and eating and talking and singing.

I liked being here. I liked this job, and I liked this experience.

There was no less anguish at the absence of Ignazio, but I realized suddenly that I was settling in.

"Monica?" I said, and she looked up at me from the papers she was reading. "I think Ignazio was right…I don't think I'm going back."

It was strange to hear myself finally say it. Monica smiled and nodded her head, and I smiled too, looking up again at the stars twinkling overhead.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

My days turned into a routine of getting up, getting breakfast with Monica and talking to her about my progress, and then leaving in the rental car to go off on my explorations. I always stayed out for several hours, parking the car somewhere and hiking far away and then returning to it. I would return to the huts somewhere between afternoon and evening, exhausted and aching but giddy with excitement and pleased with the day's work. My photoshoots were amazing, and I was always running and hiking and laughing as I ventured into the hearts of the countries we stayed in.

After Mozambique we went to Zimbabwe, and I was learning that all the African countries looked very similar, or at least the ones we were visiting. But they each had something special for me, like Zimbabwe's breathtaking Victoria Falls, a waterfall that I returned to several times throughout the week we were there to try to capture its beauty.

I felt as though I was settled in, and it was surprising and unsettling to me that I had already been away from Ignazio for more than two weeks. I had such fond memories from my days with Il Volo, and when things quieted down I liked to go to that place in my mind where I could see the boys again.

I was still anxious sometimes with the idea of being so far away from them, and sometimes being in Africa reminded me of when I was lost in the Nicaraguan jungle. It was dangerously inviting, both rewarding and terrifying wandering alone through the countries. Like the jungle, Africa separated me from Ignazio, making me so far away from him, only this time I actually was so far away from him! I was missing out on him, and I tried to remind myself that I was living my dream and think instead about the fun I had when I left the community in the mornings.

I loved going out on the shoots, and I always returned excited and happy, but it bothered me that when I wasn't going out to get my landscapes, I was doing nothing. My purpose with N.G. was as a photographer, and when I wasn't doing that there was nothing else for me to do. I felt purposeless whenever things calmed down. With Il Volo, there was always something I could do if I wanted to work, or always someone to talk to if I was content. Here, I quickly grew bored whenever I returned from a shoot, and I tried to deal with the monotony of waiting for the next day.

I asked Monica frequently about her project, but it quickly became evident to me that I couldn't be more than a photographer for her. I couldn't know how she wanted things done, and I couldn't help more than I was at the risk of making it _my _project. Monica was the creator and overseer of the project, and she knew exactly how she wanted things to be done, how she wanted the information she was gathering to be put together to provide information about the countries to the world.

I loved being a landscape photographer, but whenever I stopped, I felt like that was all I was. I was important to the project, but if I left they could always get another landscape photographer. I just wanted more to do. I wondered about where N.G would send me after I finished the assignment in Africa, and I hoped it would be a project I could be more involved with. But I realized as I wondered that that was probably not possible. How could I hope to be more than a N.G. photographer when I was supposed to be just a N.G. photographer? There was so much room in my mind to do more, to be more ambitious, to want more, and so I hung onto the excitement of my landscapes and tried to focus just on that.

The days of exploration and then boredom continued, and the last country we arrived in was Botswana. I continued my normal routine of waking up, exploring in a whirl of excitement, and then returning to the village and sitting around thinking.

One day I came home early, in the afternoon, because it had started raining and didn't stop when I tried to wait it out in the car. I returned to the village and went to my hut where I lay on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain and thinking.

As the minutes went slowly by and I stared blankly up at the ceiling, the boredom started to get to me and there was a sinking in my chest as I thought.

"I did it," I said, the words appearing and then evaporating into the rain. "I became a photographer for National Geographic."

There was a pretty ring to the words, a small triumph I got from saying them. I was a photographer for National Geographic. I had always wanted to be a professional landscape photographer, and now I was, and it was great to be able to go out and explore whenever I wanted.

I could clearly imagine being with N.G. in a few years, being sent on assignments alone or with a group of journalists to photograph the scenery of different places in the world. I'd be doing exactly what I was doing now, just in different environments. The idea of capturing the landscapes of different places in the world excited me, but the idea of finishing the job and having nothing else to do made my heart sink. Was my entire life going to be taking pictures and publishing them? Would I ever be able to something bigger, have the opportunity to take control of a project? Maybe not. Would I be able to deal with that? Maybe, but I was uncertain.

I could probably convince myself to be content with my landscapes and nothing more. But was I going to? I had to! In just a few days, I'd be retuning to Washington D.C. to sign the contract to work with N.G. for a much longer time than the four weeks I was about to complete. I would finally accept my dream; the ideal I'd been chasing since I started attending classes at Harrison. I'd never had any other long-term dream than being where I was at this moment, being a self-motivated photographer for N.G.

The rain was slowing outside, and I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. Maybe I was just getting cold feet about signing the contract in a few days, but I was beginning to think that maybe there was more to this photography dream than just taking landscapes.

I sat quietly for a few minutes, staring at the wall and listening as the rain finally became a drizzle and then stopped. I slowly got up from the bed and pulled on my red high-tops, leaving the lonely hut and walking through the village over the wet mud and glistening grass. It was the last light of day, and the sky was growing darker with just a streak of a brilliant orange peeking over the horizon.

I wandered aimlessly through the village staring at the sunset until I found Monica reading alone at a wooden outdoor table. I went up to it and sat beside her, and she glanced up and smiled at me, and then paused and watched me intently.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Sure," I said softly, and she hesitated before looking back down at her papers.

I quietly watched the Botswana people emerging from the huts and beginning their dinners together, and I watched the children walking barefoot through the mud and laughing.

"What happens…" I started, and my soft tone made Monica look up and watch me closely. "What happens after you've gotten your dream?"

"After you've gotten your dream…Well, Tamzin, I suppose you enjoy that dream for as long as you want…and then, providing you haven't made a commitment to this first dream, you find another one."

"A new dream," I said softly, and she nodded.

"Why, what are you thinking?" she asked soothingly.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," I said, getting up from the table.

"It's dinnertime."

"I'm not hungry."

"Be careful, then. It's getting dark."

"I know."

I left the village, trudging slowly along through the savannah and looking ahead at the waving grass and the never-ending sky above. As I walked, I could see the places I photographed in the morning light, the areas I had run to, the spots where I had crawled through the grass or climbed trees or drove through in search of new land. The world around me was beautiful and inviting, holding so many things to give me when I went searching for them, so many things to show me!

This was supposed to be my dream! I was supposed to be always striving for this and never letting anything get in the way of becoming a National Geographic photographer. I was supposed to embrace this job and be ecstatic to work like this forever, content to always be free to explore, to romp through the earth with nothing else to take up my time or distract me. This was supposed to be the point in which I would never long for anything again, the final thing I had to reach to be content forever. I wasn't supposed to have any doubts, even under the pressure of knowing I'd be signing a contract in a few days. This was supposed to be what I wanted!

Then why, after settling into this life and experiencing the thrill of it, was I suddenly questioning if this was what I wanted!? Of course it was what I wanted! I had always wanted this!

Maybe I just needed to stop thinking and go to bed, and all of my uncertainty would evaporate in the morning when I left for tomorrow's shoot. It was wishful thinking, that every uncertainty would just fade, but I turned around and started walking back to the village, quickly this time and with purpose. I went swiftly through the village to my hut and went inside, pulling off my high-tops and changing into my lightweight pajama shorts and T-shirt. I threw my clothes into my open suitcase against the wall and climbed onto the mattress, pulling a thin sheet over me and squeezing my eyes shut, determined to make the night turn into morning.

The quick walking and restless thinking had made me feel alert and energized, and as I lay there and time slowly passed, I was unable to relax and stop thinking. I needed something to focus on other than my thoughts, something comforting and warm. Immediately I knew what I wanted, and I got up and opened the drawer of the little wooden bedside table.

From inside I took a handcrafted candle I had bought in the village and a box of matches. I set down the candle on the table and struck a match, the flame instantly illuminating the room and bathing everything in the quiet, gentle light. I lit the candle, put the matches back in the drawer, and quietly moved back onto the mattress, laying down and watching the candle. The brilliant little flame glowed and flickered, and it reflected on the wall, the warm reflection moving and brightening as the flame did. I quietly watched it, focusing on its bright light and the orange glow it filtered throughout the room.

It was beautiful and quiet, and as I watched I slowly began to relax, until finally I was able to close my eyes and begin to doze, still seeing its warm flicker behind my lids.

"_Tamzin, what do you want?"_

_I absorbed the question for a moment, and then lifted my head in confusion and shot him a quizzical look._

"_Ignazio, what kind of a question is that?"_

_He turned his head to me, and his face showed sincerity._

"_I mean overall. What is it you want?"_

"_Huh? What do you want?"_

I stirred and then relaxed again, wanting to be drawn back into the dream. I was faintly aware of the candlelight, far off in the distance, still warming the space around me with its orange glow.

"_I guess…" I said, thinking, "With my photography, I want to capture the beauty of things within the world. I want to capture it and present it to people, draw them into the realm of beauty."_

Immediately I was yanked out of my dream as I jolted upright and thrust back the sheet. I sat up straight, my breathing suddenly loud, and I turned to the candle still dancing on the bedside table, its brilliant light bathing the mattress in its glow.

I stared at it, into the brightness of the light, as my heart began to speed up and my mind raced.

"I want-" I started in a loud, dazed whisper. I ran my hands through my hair and started again, my voice clearer and louder. "I want to capture the beauty of things within the world. I want to capture it and present it to people, draw them into the realm of beauty."

I stared at the flickering of the candlelight's glow on the mattress, vividly being brought back to the stormy night in Canada where Ignazio had lit candles and lined them up along the windowsill, then drawn me close to him and wrapped a blanket around us. I remembered watched the dancing of the candles and feeling Ignazio's warmth despite the freezing air of the dark room, and telling him for the first time my goal.

And my goal was to capture the beauty of things within the world! I had also told him I wanted to be a photographer for National Geographic, but when he asked me what I wanted, the first thing that I told him was that I wanted to capture the beauty of things within the world. That was my ultimate goal! There was more to my dream than just landscapes! My foremost pursuit was not of a job at National Geographic, but of beauty!

I turned and shifted to the edge of the mattress, to move nearer to the candle and further into its realm of warm light.

My goal was to capture beauty, and never had I known anything more beautiful than Il Volo. The love between the boys, their music, the passion they shared for that music, their playfulness and excitement, their support of one another, and the community they had with the producers and the band and even the fans was so beautiful! Never had I more purpose than when I was determined to help Il Volo fly.

I scrambled up from the bed and went to my suitcase, dropping to my knees and searching frantically until I found Ignazio's good-bye letter. I brought it to the bed and sat to reread a part of it in the glow of the candle.

"_But just like I can't deal with the thought of not have known you, neither can you deal with not knowing what it would be like to live your dream. As much as I want you to be with me, I can't keep you here with you not knowing."_

"I know," I said, and then looked up at the candle and said it again. "I know!"

Now I knew. Now I knew what it was like to be a photographer for National Geographic, and I knew what it was like to live this dream. Ignazio was right when he told me I never would have been able to forget this dream, but now I didn't have to forget about it! I had experienced it! I had achieved my dream of becoming a National Geographic photographer, and yes, it was beautiful! It was fun and exciting, but so was being with Il Volo! When I had come up with this dream as a kid, Il Volo hadn't even existed yet! I hadn't known about the world of Il Volo, but now I knew, and I knew how beautiful and brilliant it was!

The thrill of taking landscapes would always be there for me. I could always be a landscape photographer, even if I wasn't working for National Geographic. They may not always be there for me, but nature would be. I could share my pictures online, and I could give National Geographic all my pictures with rights to publish them, but I didn't have to spend my whole life working here if it wasn't my dream anymore!

I had a new dream, one that I knew I'd never have doubts about, a place where I'd never again question my role or feel insignificant. I knew a place where I was loved and wanted, and I knew that I could live there forever and not wish to be anywhere else anymore, now that I knew what getting my past dream was like.

Ignazio had sent me here so I could know what was right, and now I did.

I pulled on my red high-tops and stepped outside of the hut, looking up into the brilliant stars twinkling in the night sky, thousands of candles all flickering above me. Before I could stop myself, I laughed, my heart racing with excitement as I clutched Ignazio's letter to my chest. I had made my decision, and never was I so sure of anything in my life.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

I could barely sleep all night, just thinking about seeing the boys and Barbara and Michele again. I kept laying down and getting back up, pacing and thinking and reading Ignazio's letters again and again, laughing quietly and feeling the racing of my heart. I kept relighting the candle, unwilling to let its flickering dance come to an end.

When the stars retreated and the sun returned, bringing back its brilliant orange glow, I finally left the hut and went to find Monica. She was having breakfast alone in her hut, and I went in and sat next to her on the floor and told her everything.

She was very supportive, telling me that it was my decision and I should do what I thought was best for me. She had only needed me for a short time for her project, and it wasn't as if I'd be setting her back with my leaving. She had been concerned about my melancholy mood in the evenings, and she was happy that I knew what I was going to do.

"Last night when you asked me about dreams I figured you might leave. From everything you've told me, it sounds like you've done well with Il Volo… So, Tamzin," she said, smiling, "You're going to be with Il Volo again."

"I want to!" I said pleadingly. "But Monica, I don't even know if I can! I've been gone for a whole month! Maybe they have a new photographer! Maybe they've decided they don't need one after all! Maybe they've gotten used to life without me, and they don't want to return to what it used to be like now that I've left! But Ignazio sent me here so I could know what's right, and now I do!"

"How are you going to reach them?" Monica asked, getting to her feet and reaching down to pull me up. "You don't have your phone anymore, right?"

"Oh, no! That's right! I lost it in Mozambique! It didn't matter so much then because I didn't have service anyway, but all the numbers were in that phone! Oh, no, Monica!"

I clenched my fists at the realization and looked up fearfully at her.

"Calm down. Can you email them when you get back to D.C.?"

"I guess I can, but Michele and Barbara get dozens of emails a day! It takes forever to sift through them all, and it'd be a while before they got back to me! And the boys don't check their emails!"

"Um…okay…how about…"

"The tour schedule!"

"What?"

"I kept the tour schedule in my suitcase!"

I turned and burst out of the hut, sprinting as fast as I could to my own hut. I ran through the village, dodging people going out to work and raced into my own hut, throwing myself to my knees beside the open suitcase. I went frantically through it, throwing things on the bed with reckless abandon.

"Yes!" I cried, snatching it up and leaping to my feet.

"You found it? What does it say?" Monica asked, appearing in the doorway.

"They'll be in Los Angeles when I return to Washington D.C., but they'll be there only for that night and the next, and then they're off to Latin America, and I didn't get all the specifics written down for those concerts before I left!"

"Okay, okay, maybe National Geographic has Ignazio's number filed, since you said he's been calling them. If not, you'll just have to go to Los Angeles and find them. You have the theatre and the concert time written down, don't you?"

"Yes, I do! Oh, but they're not going to the condos and I don't have the hotel anymore because Michele said there was a problem and he was going to get a different one, but then I left before he did! Okay, so…on Friday the return plane is going to come and get me, and I'm going back to D.C., and that's going to be a really long flight. Then I have the meeting with National Geographic the next morning, and they're not going to let me go to Los Angeles first! They're going to expect me to have a decision when I get there, and they're going to be expecting to send me off to the next assignment right away!"

"Right, okay, Tamzin, calm down! If you meet with National Geographic Saturday morning, then you can take the next flight to Los Angeles, and you'll probably be able to make it. What time is the concert?"

"Seven!"

"Okay, and you can get there anytime during the concert and they'll still be there, so you can even be there at eight-thirty or nine and be sure they'll still be there."

"I'm so nervous, Monica! This is cutting it so close! What if I miss them!?"

"You'll just have to do the best you can and hope it works out, Tamzin!"

"Oh, I have to find them!"

She nodded vigorously, but then gazed thoughtfully at me and began cautiously, "What will you do if…"

"I guess I'll have to go back to Florida and keep trying to reach them. And if I can't go back to them…I guess I'll just have to return to Harrison…and wait for my next assignment…"

"Tamzin," Monica said gently, reaching out and turning my face toward her. "It's okay. They'll take you back…it'll be alright. Don't worry."

"I hope you're right!" I said, clasping the schedule to my racing heart, fear of letting them slip away overwhelming me.

I had just a few more days to work with Monica on her project, and the excitement of photography helped to distract me from the anxiety of the race against the clock I'd soon be embarking on. I did my best to enjoy my last days in Botswana with Monica in the village, and I was still able to experience the thrill of my landscape sessions. There was no question of leaving early, because I had to finish this project, and the private N.G plane wouldn't come until Friday. There was no more boredom and melancholy wondering in the evenings, but now there was a strict anxiety of not being able to make it to Los Angeles on time. I was more afraid than I'd ever been in my life. I felt like I did when I was in the Nicaraguan jungle, terrified that they would have to leave me behind. But back then they would still have found a way for me to get back to them, and now Ignazio had no idea what was going on with me, and I had no idea what was going on with him! I could only hope and pray with all my heart that in a few days I'd be back with them and not in Florida, devastated and trying to put together a new plan, a new future.

Finally Friday morning arrived, and I had only been able to sleep for a few anxious hours that night, dreaming about Ignazio and fearing the race I was about to begin. In the morning I packed my suitcase, hoping it'd be the last time I had to pack before I saw Il Volo again. I had a light breakfast with Monica, who kept telling me to relax and smile, and then I went on a final walk through the savannah with my camera draped over my shoulder, admiring Africa for the last time and reveling in the triumph of having a job with National Geographic for the last time.

Then the plane arrived and it was finally time to leave. I tightly hugged Monica goodbye, and she gave me her number and told me to call her and tell her the outcome of my race.

"Tamzin, I really hope you get to them, but if not, I'll try to get you involved with my next project. You really are an amazing photographer."

"Thank you so much, Monica!" I said, and then after telling the journalists goodbye, I boarded the plane with my things. I was sad to be leaving Africa, because I had so much fun there and it was the place where I had lived out my dream of being a National Geographic photographer. Right when the plane was about to leave, I was informed that there was a letter for me on board, and one of the few people on the flight who had helped unload supplies handed me an envelope. I looked at the familiar script and was immediately comforted about my leaving as my heart leaped within my chest.

"Just hang on, Ignazio. Wait for me," I whispered, clasping the letter to my chest. Then I tore it open and began to read the continuation of Il Volo's touring as the plane took off.

Ignazio's letter didn't supply me with any information about the hotel in Los Angles, any changes of touring plans, or anything about a new photographer, but reading his writing and imagining his voice helped to calm my anxiety. Holding the letter on my lap with the camera bag at my feet, I was even able to take a nap, dreaming of his laughter, his dimpled smile, the dark silky hair and sweet brown eyes.

When I arrived back in D.C., all the memories of being there with Ignazio flooded back, and I almost started to cry with fear that I wouldn't make it to Los Angeles in time. I wanted to just leave and fly to Los Angeles, but I had to meet with N.G. the next morning, and I wouldn't be able to find Il Volo anyway until they went to the theatre for the concert.

I went to the hotel N.G. had picked for me, and found that it was the same hotel that I had stayed in with Ignazio. Walking through the lobby with my things, I imagined having him with me and felt the deep absence of him all over again, as strong as it was when he had first left.

The woman at the desk gave me my room key, and I realized with a pang when I walked up to the door that it was the same exact room Ignazio had stayed in when he had brought me to D.C. I stared at the numbers on the door as my heart pounded within my aching chest, and then I hurriedly went inside and collapsed to the floor with the familiarity of it.

I imagined his things in this room, the leather jacket over the chair, his tennis shoes beside the door, his headphones on the counter, and I finally started to cry in fear that I wouldn't get to him in time. I was so close to our reunion, but there was still so much chance that I would miss him. Remembering our last night together, I kicked off my red high-tops and ran into the little bedroom, jumping into the bed where only a month earlier I had been lying here with him next to me. It was so real, so familiar, and I moved my hand over the sheets and the pillows, experiencing the feel of them.

Then I hurriedly changed out of my lightweight Africa-clothes and began a search to contact Il Volo with desperate fervency. I went to N.G. headquarters and was told _of course_ they hadn't held onto my boyfriend's number. I called Harrison and remembered that it was the weekend and Mr. Masters wouldn't be there. I called my parents and remembered that they were on vacation and had planned not to take their phones. I kept searching for a way to contact someone in the Il Volo team where they could answer me within the next 24 hours, and came up empty and despairing.

Finally, I had to go to bed, and before I did I stood before the window and looked out at the March night in D.C. It was still cold outside with fresh powder on the ground, but things were beginning to come back to life; green grass poked out from underneath the thinning snow, trees had a handful of new leaves on them, and there were even a few people walking here and there out on the sidewalks. The air held the subtle promise of spring, and I hoped that it also carried a promise of reunion for me as I left the window and got into the familiar hotel bed.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

The next morning as soon as I opened my eyes I was wide awake, getting dressed and ready to go to the N.G. Headquarters. My mind was racing and I couldn't relax, knowing that by the end of the day I would either be with Ignazio or I would have missed him. I had my plane ticket already, and I kept pacing throughout the hotel room worrying and waiting until it was time leave for the Headquarters.

Time was ticking by, unrelenting. My flight was leaving at two-thirty, and it would arrive in Los Angeles at exactly seven, the same time as the start of the concert. I wondered what the boys were doing now, if they were still at their hotel or if they were at an interview or rehearsal in the theatre.

I was dressed in my Il Volo T-shirt, the one I had designed, with my red coat over it and jeans. I put on the diamond necklace Ignazio had given me before the AMAs as a sort of good-luck charm, and I pulled on my red high-tops before I left the hotel.

I took a cab to the Headquarters, and much too long after my arrival I was sitting across the desk from an executive of N.G.

"Well, Ms. Montgomery," he said, sliding a contract and pen across the table. "We are sure that you will want to continue with us, with the way we've heard how you feel about our organization. Monica has reported that you are a very passionate worker, and I've personally looked through your photos. We'd be very pleased to have you with us for the next year."

"Thank you very much, but I'm sorry," I said, sliding the contract back across the table to his surprise, "There's somewhere else I need to be. But if you send me some flash drives, I'll duplicate all of the landscapes I've ever taken and send them to National Geographic to use how you see fit." Taking a piece of paper from my pocket and handing it to him, I said, "Here's a list of all the places I've photographed. I hope you'll take advantage of my offer."

He was surprised and bewildered that I was leaving, but he tried to be understanding, though he seemed very disappointed. He did take me up on my offer, and I agreed to contact the company when I could.

I left the Headquarters and paused before hailing a taxi, turning and looking for the last time at what I had thought was the entryway to my dreams. And maybe it was, because it was through this company that I learned where I truly wanted to be. I smiled at the huge white curving building reaching into the March sky and smiled, offering the place a good-bye wave.

Then I turned away and got my taxi, reviewing my plan yet again in my mind and counting down the hours I had until the concert.

I sat in the airplane concourse with my suitcase and camera bag, trying and failing to relax as I waited until I could board the plane. I could feel the silent rush of the race as the time hurried forward and I sat idly in the airport, checking the clock again and again. People bustled all around me and it was noisy, and I sat quietly reviewing my plan. It was almost two, and I jiggled my leg impatiently and thought about arriving at the concert over and over again, my mind racing with worry. As soon as I landed in Los Angeles, I would take a cab straight to the theatre and bring my luggage with me, not wasting any time finding Il Volo. The tour schedule was in my pocket, and I kept feeling it as if reassuring myself that I knew where they were going to be, and that everything would be okay.

I was trying to keep reminding myself that everything was going to work out. I'd arrive in Los Angeles at seven, seven-thirty at the latest, and then I'd have an hour or hopefully even two to get to the theatre. I remained positive and hopeful, until the airport announced something that struck me to the core and chilled me with horror.

Due to an airline glitch, the flight was going to be delayed for a while, a few hours maximum.

I couldn't move. Everyone around me groaned and started complaining, but I was frozen still. I felt my heart breaking inside my chest and my mind going numb with shock, the race momentarily freezing. A delay? There was a delay. It was as if I couldn't comprehend the information, and then all at once I just wanted to scream and burst into tears. I could feel the plan beginning to crumble around me, the hope of the reunion beginning to fall away and shatter. So this was it? Il Volo was gone?

No! I couldn't give up now! I was sitting in the airport waiting to board a flight to Los Angeles. I was not giving up now, no matter how impossible it seemed! I could still make it! Even if I caught them leaving the theatre, it would be okay! I just had to find them in Los Angeles before tomorrow morning, when they left for Latin America! I clenched my fists together and glared fiercely at the clock, determined to win.

I tried to force myself to start breathing again, and my mind resuming its racing, my thoughts becoming more frantic as I sat idly in the airport as time passed by, unrelenting in its taunting. I shook my head slowly at the clock, glaring fiercely. I would go to every hotel in Los Angeles if I had to! I would do everything I could to find the boys, and only until tomorrow would I have to accept that I missed them. I just had to do the best I could!

After an agonizing wait in the airport, we were finally allowed to board the plane at about five, and I was doing my best not to start panicking. I kept my hand on the tour schedule in my pocket and kept repeating to myself that everything was going to be okay. We took to the air at five-thirty, and I calculated that with the delay we'd arrive at about ten. The concert would be over by then, but I clung to the hope that they'd stick around long enough at the theatre for me to get there.

The whole flight I wasn't able to relax, and I spent the entire time trying to calm myself down. I attempted to take a nap at one point, because the days of worrying had me very tired, but I was wide awake. I tried to watch a movie, but I couldn't focus on anything. I just stared out the window and prayed that the plane would go faster, arrive there sooner, and Il Volo would wait at the theatre a little longer.

The second the plane had landed and I was free to leave, I sprinted like a maniac through the airport, grabbed my luggage as quickly as I could, and evacuated the building as fast as I could go with my suitcase and camera equipment. I dashed to the street and hailed a taxi, leaping inside it and yanking my things in with me.

I yelled the name of the theatre and told him to step on it, and while he took off, startled, I tried to catch my breath from all the running.

"When we get there," I panted, pulling money from out of my suitcase, "I want you to wait with the luggage while I go in and find the people I'm looking for."

I clasped my hands over my heart and jiggled my legs as the taxi drove through the brilliantly illuminated streets of Los Angeles. It was dark outside and chilly, and I was anxious and trembling as I watched the building pass outside the window.

"Stay there. Stay there," I quietly willed the boys, shaking and sitting up close to the door, ready to burst forth when the car came to a stop. I sat up straight, craning to catch a glimpse of the theatre, and as the time approached ten-thirty, I finally saw it.

"That's it!" I screamed, making the driver jump, and he continued toward the street at the frustratingly normal pace. "Park there and wait!" I instructed impatiently, pointing at a spot along the side of the street, and the second he stopped I threw open the door and took off sprinting toward the theatre. I flew past signs advertising the concert, and I ran as fast as I could toward the bright lights of the theatre. The cars and the security guards outside of the theatre let me know that they were still there, and I willed myself to run faster, knowing they were just within reach. I ran up to the building and around to the back, where I remembered the dressing rooms and backstage being, and I found the entrance doors blocked by a burly security guard.

I sprinted up to him, panting and struggling to speak.

"Hi, I'm Tamzin Montgomery! I was Il Volo's photographer, and I need to get in, excuse me!"

I stepped forward and reached for the door, and he stepped in front of me and blocked my way.

"I'm sorry, miss, I can't let anyone in unless they have a pass."

"No, but I know them! I was their photographer. I need to see them before they leave!"

"I'm sorry. I can't let anyone past."

"Then go inside and tell them Tamzin Montgomery is here!"

"I'm not authorized to move from this spot."

"NO!" I screamed in fury, and he raised his eyebrows. "I have to get in there! I've been racing for too long to lose now! You don't understand! I'm going to lose them!"

"I'm sorry. You'll have to leave now, or I'll have to have you removed. You're not getting inside."

The door opened then and another guard stepped out, and I flung myself at the door, reaching out toward my opportunity as the guard grabbed me around the waist and lifted me over his shoulder. I screamed and thrashed as he held tightly to me. As my opportunity began to swing shut in front of me and the other guard helped to pull me backward, I thought I saw a familiar figure at the far end of the hallway.

"BARBARA!" I screamed as loud as I could, "BARBARA, HELP!"

The door closed, and I was yanked away from it, desperately screaming her name. The men set me on the ground and dragged me away from it, telling me over and over to get off of the premises and threatening to call the police. I was sobbing, and I kept yelling frantically that they didn't understand as they pulled me away.

Then the door was flung open, and someone yelled over me.

"STOP! It's okay, she's with us!"

The guards released me immediately, and I raced into the open arms of Barbara.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

"Tamzin!" she cried, and I clung tightly to her, crying and shaking as relief flooded through me. She hugged me tightly back, saying my name over and over again.

"Come inside now!" she finally said, prying me off of her and leading me through the doors into the hall of dressing rooms. As the door swung shut, she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and led me briskly into one of the rooms. She shut the door behind her and took my face in her hands. "Tamzin, what's going on!?"

"Where are the boys!?"

"Still meeting with the fans! Tamzin, tell me what's going on!"

"I came back!" I pleaded tearfully, "I want to come back! This is my dream, Barbara, to be here! You don't have a new photographer, do you!? Can I come back!?"

"Tamzin, yes, of course you can come back! I'm so glad to see you! How did you realize this!? Tell me what happened!"

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Barbara stepped away and opened it, letting in Michele.

"Did I just see- TAMZIN!?"

I jumped forward and threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly, and then I pulled away and hurriedly told them everything that had happened since Ignazio had left me in D.C., panting and wiping the tears from my eyes as I explained.

"We have our photographer back!" Barbara exclaimed when I finished, wrapping me in her arms again, and I laughed elatedly at hearing her say it, almost falling against her in relief. Michele hugged me again too and kissed my cheek, ranting about how happy he was to have me back and how thrilled the boys would be, Ignazio especially.

I couldn't wait to see them, and my heart was bouncing around in my chest with the idea of looking into Ignazio's eyes again. The three of us went back into the hallway of dressing rooms, and as I walked with them, trembling with excitement, I saw the figures of Piero and Gianluca appear at the end of the hallway, escorted by a guard who led them out from the room of fans.

They were wearing handsome black suits and ties and laughing, and then Gianluca looked up and froze, and Piero looked at him and then at me.

They both instantly started running forward at the same time, eyes wide with disbelief as they yelled my name. I raced forward, my red high-tops slapping the ground as I sprinted toward them. Piero reached me first, and he swept me up off of the ground and hugged me tightly, kissing my cheek and laughing in disbelief. Then he let me go and I turned and threw my arms around Gianluca, who also kissed my cheek and held my head to his shoulder as he squeezed me tight.

"What are you doing here!?" Piero exclaimed when Gianluca released me, and I laughed with exhilaration.

"I'm coming back! I'm going to be your photographer again!"

"Really!?" Gianluca asked in excited disbelief, and Piero leaped into the air in excitement as Gianluca laughed at him.

They pulled me into a group hug as they exclaimed their excitement to have me back.

"Has Ignazio seen you!?" Gianluca asked suddenly, turning me toward him and taking me by the shoulders, and I shook my head and grabbed his arms.

"No, not yet! Where is he!?"

"Still at the meet-and-greet, talking with some of the fans!" Piero explained. "Hey, why don't you go to his dressing room and we'll tell him there's someone waiting for him there!"

Gianluca laughed. "That's good! Oh, Tamzin, he's probably going to pass out from excitement!"

I laughed too, and then Piero took my hand and tugged me in the direction of the dressing room, and I sprinted with him down the hallway and into the little room.

"Wait here!" he said, yanking open the door, and I nodded eagerly as he shut the door behind me with a bang and sprinted away.

I stood panting and smiling alone in the middle of the quiet dressing room, and I turned and looked around. Ignazio's brown leather jacket was draped over a chair, and his folded T-shirt and jeans were on the vanity table. His blue tennis shoes were beside the door, and there was a clothes rack with the open and empty suit protector on it and an extra tie hung over the bar. The thing that warmed my heart was the slip of paper tucked into a corner of the mirror, bearing the words, _"If you love something, let it go"_ written in his handwriting. I smiled and moved to the vanity, reaching out and picking up the paper to look at it more closely. I suddenly remembered something, and I looked around for a pen to finish the rest of the quote. Under his writing, I wrote, _"If it comes back to you, it's yours forever,"_ and then I tucked it back into the mirror.

I returned to the middle of the room and stood silently, my heart beating out of my chest in excitement as I stared at the door Ignazio would enter through. In only a few moments, I would see him again. After all the racing and worrying and hoping, I was finally going to see him again.

He was so close! I listened intently to the commotion in the hallway, and then it suddenly got quieter and I knew there was someone outside the door. I clasped my hands to my chest, listening. For a moment everything was quiet, and then there was a cautious knock on the door. I stayed frozen, silent and rooted to the spot, staring at the door as the knob turned and the door began to open.

"Hello?" came his sweetly accented voice, and as the door began to open he saw me.

He looked amazing, wearing his black suit and red tie, his dark silky hair perfectly combed through and styled to one side. His dark brows rose immediately and his shining, playful eyes widened, his face stunned. For a moment he stared at me and I stared back, taking in the beautiful sight of him as everything paused.

"Tamzin!" he whispered in awe, then he shoved the door closed behind him and strode forward, grabbing me and pulling me tightly into his gentle arms. My arms went around his back and I clung to him and felt his arms around me as I took in his familiar comforting scent. "Oh, my dear!"

"I love you, Ignazio!" I said, and then he knelt down, taking me with him and holding me to him.

"Tamzin," he whispered, and I looked up into his sweet brown eyes and saw that he was smiling that brilliant, sweet smile, and his eyes were shimmering with joyful tears. "I love you too!"

Then he kissed me, and I closed my eyes and felt his lips against mine, experiencing the reality of it. He pulled back after a moment, but I pulled him back in and kissed him again.

When I pulled back he took my face in his hands and gazed at me, smiling in disbelief.

"You came back," he said, and I nodded. His smile suddenly evaporated, and he got quickly to his feet and helped me up, then took my hands and demanded my attention with his serious expression. "But how, Tamzin!? Why did you come back!? You need to be with National Geographic!"

"No, Ignazio!" I said, shaking my head and smiling. "I need to be here!" I pulled him to the chair at the vanity and made him sit so I could explain, but he reached out and pulled me close to sit on his knees. "Ignazio, do you remember when we were in Canada and you asked me what I wanted?" He nodded, and I smiled and took his face in my hands. "I told you that I wanted to capture the beauty of things within the world, and I haven't found anything more beautiful than Il Volo, and you!"

I eagerly told him all about my candlelit night in Botswana and the revelations I had experienced, and he listened incredulously.

"Ignazio, I've been thinking that my ultimate goal was to be a photographer for National Geographic, but it's not! My goal is to capture beauty within the world and present it to people, draw them into the realm of beauty! And Ignazio, now I know! Now I know what it's like to be a photographer for them, and you helped me to get that dream, but there I realized that I have a new dream! I want to come back and be with Il Volo! I want to help Il Volo fly! The landscapes will always be there for me, whether I'm with National Geographic or not! I want to be here with you guys!"

I leaned into him, leaning my forehead against his.

"You are my dream, too," I whispered, and kissed him. He closed his eyes and cuddled me to him, drawing me in closer.

"Really?" he whispered, incredulous, and I laughed and nodded.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life!"

"You came back!" he said, and then laughed joyfully and kissed my cheek. "You came back to us!"

I laughed too and hugged him, but when I looked up at him he had a strange look on his face. His eyes were shimmering and dancing with excitement, but he was thinking hard about something, and he sat me up on his knee and straightened in the chair.

"I made plans…" he said, his eyes wide as he thought hard, running a hand incredulously through his dark hair. "I was making plans for us, but...I realized they wouldn't work if you wanted something else…if you were chasing a different dream! But now…"

"Ignazio?"

He quickly moved me from his lap and stood me up, jumping up beside me and taking my hand. "Come see!" he said, his bright eyes suddenly dancing with excitement. "Come with me!"

"Where!? Ignazio, what are you doing!?"

He pulled me to the door and then brought me out of the dressing room, swiftly walking with me down the almost empty hallway to the backstage lounge where the others were sitting together, laughing and enjoying themselves.

"Tamzin!" Gianluca exclaimed happily, noticing us, and the group turned and smiled at us.

"I have something to say," Ignazio said, and guided me quickly to the middle of the room, bringing me to the midst of the group of Barbara, Michele, Piero, Gianluca, some of the band members, and assorted theatre staff. Everyone grew quiet, smiling at us and waiting, and I watched Piero nudge Gianluca as they stared at me in delighted awe.

"My dear," Ignazio said, taking my hands so that I turned back toward him. "I was making plans for us, and I was so excited for our future together, but I realized my plans wouldn't work if you had another dream, if you wanted something that you couldn't have with us. But now that you've left and come back to us, you've shown me that my plans can work now, if you want them to, also."

"Ignazio, what are you talking about?"

"Tamzin, I love you so much," he said, squeezing my hands tightly, his eyes dancing eagerly. Then he released my hands and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a little red box as everyone around watched intently. I clasped my hands over my chest and stared, wide-eyed, as Ignazio stepped back from me and got down onto one knee. I started to cry, and he opened the box to reveal a brilliant, shimmering diamond ring.

"Tamzin Lucille Montgomery, will you marry me?"

"Oh, Ignazio!"

Everyone leaned forward, smiling wide as they waited for my answer. Feeling the intense warmth in my chest and the dancing of my heart, I nodded, and then laughed and exclaimed, "Yes!"

Everyone burst into applause and Gianluca and Piero whooped and leapt up from their chairs.

Ignazio smiled wide, revealing his dimples, and then I reached my hand down and he slid the brilliantly shimmering ring onto my finger.

Then he stood up and I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him, and his gentle arms went tightly around my back, holding me to him. Then I pulled back and laughed excitedly, and he laughed with me and hugged me tightly.

"Would someone please take a picture!?" I said, and everyone laughed as Gianluca and Piero pulled out their cell phones.

"That reminds me!" I said after the pictures were taken, "My suitcase and camera bag are still in the cab parked down the street."

Everyone laughed again, and Piero and Gianluca said they would go and get them for me. They hugged and congratulated me and then hugged Ignazio and congratulated him. Barbara eagerly speculated about the wedding and admired my ring, and Michele patted Ignazio on the back and talked happily with him. Then Ignazio took my hand, spun me around, and playfully scooped me up, throwing me effortlessly over his shoulder, and I laughed and waved to everyone as he carried me out of the lounge and down the hallway to the dressing room.

He set me down on the vanity and closed the door, then eagerly came up to me and tilted up my chin to kiss me. He stopped after a moment and drew back, and I looked up and saw him looking at something beside me. I turned my head and watched as he reached out and picked up the piece of paper tucked into the corner of the mirror.

"If it comes back to you, it's yours forever," he read, and then looked up and smiled sweetly at me. "Brilliant," he said, and then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

***Author's note: Thank you for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Now that I've finished this one, I've written a fanfiction about each of the Il Volo boys! The others are **_**Gianluca Ginoble and I**_** and **_**Underneath the Moon (Piero Barone Fanfiction)**_**, and they are both also on this site, . Remember that you can email me at annawritesfanfiction at gmail dotcom. Thank you so much! **

**-Anna Babin (annawritesfanfiction)**


	49. Author Notification

**Notification to my readers**

**(not a chapter: sorry :) )**

I am moving my four fanfictions to (Watt pad dot com- if it won't let me write it as a web address.) Someone contacted me and alerted me that even thought (fanfiction dotnet) is a fanfiction site, it does not want people posting RPS (real person fanfiction), which mine are (of course). This person suggested notifying my readers that I am moving my stories and then moving them, rather than take the risk of the stories being reported and possibly taken down. Though I know there is A LOT of RPF on this site, moving them makes sense to me, anyway. Currently, my stories are the only Il Volo fics on this site, while Wattpad has several of them. Moving my stories could mean they get more readers, which sounds great! Moving them also gives me the opportunity to re-edit them and remove many of the horribly distracting grammatical and spelling errors I have noticed since posting them. My username on Wattpad will be the same, Annawritesfanfiction, and I will continue to use the same email: annawritesfanfiction at gmaildotcom. Though I do not intend to remove my stories from (fanfiction dotnet) AT THE MOMENT, it is definitely a possibility after the stories have been reposted. Please check out my stories in their new home: Wattpad! Thank you!

-Anna Babin (Annawritesfanfiction)


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